


A Party at Beauxbatons

by LadyBinx



Series: Lucinda Baker [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beauxbatons, F/M, Polyjuice Potion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9123388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBinx/pseuds/LadyBinx
Summary: William, Lucinda and Hoppy are invited to an evening at Beauxbaton.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I set my friend a challenge a few years ago to write me a story set within the HP world that did not include the Golden Trio. These are those stories.

I’d heard on the grapevine that somebody was after me. A lot of money was being offered to kill me, but nobody would tell me who was promising the reward. Besides, I wasn’t about to stick around long enough to find out, once I’d heard what was happening. I had a couple of friends on the case, bribed or blackmailed into helping me investigate, but they were taking their time. Despite their frustrating delays, I was sure they would take care of the matter for me. Meanwhile, I was reluctant to stay in my lonely London flat with muggles on all sides, who would be no help at all if I was forced to defend myself. Instead, I was staying with my good friend Joshua Grey, enjoying his house-elf’s fantastic French cooking.

“Another slice of toast, Madame Baker?” she asked me, offering me one from a large plate of tiny pieces of dry toast with a pair of silver tongs.

“Yes, please,” I said happily. She placed it elegantly on my plate next to my eggs. She helped herself to two more slices.

The dining room was only slightly separate from the kitchen, but the border was well-defined. The dining room was full of the same clutter that dominated the rest of the house – half drawn sketches and runes and stacks of books, with random bric-a-brac that had been enchanted with childish, immature spells producing giggles, or bubbles, or some kind of motion. But the large kitchen behind that was full of an entirely different kind of clutter. The house-elf Hoppy’s pots, pans, jars, boxes, Tupperware, herb bundles, tins and tools overflowed from every drawer and cupboard. There was a minimum of recipe books squirreled away shamefully on a top-most shelf, but the rest of it was entirely practical and very textural. The fridge was always full to bursting, there was always something baking in the oven, and Josh’s enchanted dishwasher was frequently sending dishes flying across the room to settle on shelves, or smash against a wall and cause Hoppy to berate him once again.

“More coffee?” she offered me the pot.

“It’s okay, thanks. Would you pass the water?”

“Are you sure you won’t have any more eggs?” Hoppy asked, passing the jug of water into my hand.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I insisted.

“Would you like fresh ice in the water?”

“It’s okay, Hoppy!” I said, enjoying the coddling despite her constant efforts.

“I wouldn’t mind some more coffee. And some more bacon,” Josh said, looking up from the book next to his plate. He was still chewing on his last slice, and he tapped his coffee mug with his fork while he swallowed, “And some more eggs, please. And some of those tomatoes, please.”

“You would think he never eats,” Hoppy said to me with a sigh as she dished them out, leaning over the table from her chair.

“I never usually have breakfast, certainly,” said Josh, distracted from his book by a fresh plate of food.

“Yes you do, you just have it at lunchtime,” said Hoppy.

“Then the arrangement works,” said Josh with a lopsided grin, adjusting his eye patch and returning to his reading.

“I wish you would put that book away. We have a guest,” said Hoppy.

“Is that why you got me up so early?” he said, folding the corner of the page and closing the book. There was the noise of paper dropping at the front door, from several rooms away, and Josh looked alarmed, “What the hell was that?”

“That was the post. It always arrives at this time of day. Before you’re awake,” said Hoppy reproachfully, and Josh grinned again. She lay her fork delicately on her plate, pushed her chair out and hopped down onto the floor before vanishing into thin air, returning a moment later with all the post.

“Anything good?” Josh asked her as she rifled through the letters, looking at the return addresses.

“Two from the Ministry. One from the Institute,” she said, passing a few of the letters over. Josh slit one open with this knife still smeared with egg-yolk.

“Hey, this one says it’s following up on a letter from the other day. What does it mean? What letters?” he asked Hoppy.

“I’ve put all the mail from the past couple of days on your desk. Do you tell me that you haven’t seen it?!” she demanded irritably, vanishing again and returning with a much larger stack of letters. Josh looked at them and sighed wearily.

“You might have mentioned!”

“I did!” she snapped, “Mistress Baker, would you care for another slice of toast?” she asked me in a light, pleasant voice.

“No, thank you,” I said, trying not to laugh at her ways.

“More water?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Such a polite guest,” she said, smiling at me warmly.

“Do we have any fruit?” Josh asked her, forking more bacon into his mouth as he read through the pile of letters. “Hey!” he said, before she could respond, “This one is an invitation!”

He held up a light blue piece of card with lettering and floral bordering in gold that shone impressively. I recognised the crest as Beauxbatons, the French school of witchcraft and wizardry. In gracious English it said that Josh was invited to the anniversary of the school – a spectacular gala was being thrown, and prominent witches and wizards were being invited from across the world to share in the glamour. My eyes lit up as I noticed that he was permitted to bring guests with him, but then I noticed the RSVP, and that the date of the event was the same very evening. If Josh hadn’t RSVP’d, there would be no way they’d let us in, even if he was respected internationally for his innovation and knowledge.

“It looks nice,” I observed.

“A pity I didn’t see it before, or I’d have been interested in going,” Josh said.

“That’s perfect, then,” said Hoppy, “I took the liberty of sending a response saying that you would attend. It would be a good chance for you to talk to your brother.”

“Oh you did, did you?” mused Josh.

“I assumed you would be interested, and I was right,” Hoppy said.

“Well, just for that, I’m tempted not to bring you with me,” he grinned.

“I’ll start packing my things,” she said happily, swallowing one last forkful of breakfast and then vanishing into thin air again.

“What do you reckon?” Josh asked me when she’d gone, swallowing more food and having a large slurp of coffee.

“When did you last speak to your brother?” I asked.

“Since before I went to Azkaban. He never came to see me. I’ve tried sending him letters, but they get sent back unopened. He’s always been stricter than me, more puritan, so I’m probably an embarrassment to him,” Josh said sadly. He pushed a slice of bacon around his plate with his fork idly, his mind wandering.

“Remember when he tried to get us in trouble, at school?” I said, remembering Andrew Grey with little fondness. He had been a first year when I was in my sixth, so I hardly knew the boy, but he had always been a thorn in our side when Josh and I had tried to brew and sell our own alcohol. Personally, I didn’t miss him.

“Yeah. He was such a Ravenclaw,” Josh murmured.

“Not all Ravenclaws are that stuck-up,” I said kindly. Josh broke into a smile, and forked the bacon into his mouth.

“Indeed! Not all of us, eh!”

“You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to, you know,” I said.

“You don’t have any brothers or sisters, eh? He’s my brother. We supported each other when our parents died, all those years ago. If he thinks he can cut me out of his life, he’s got another think coming!” Josh said, “It would be nice to have a friend by my side. Do you fancy a holiday to the south of France?” 

“It would be nice to get out of the country,” I said, thinking of the bounty on my head.

“Excellent. Should we take the car, or shall we use this portkey they say they’ve set up?” he said, waving the invitation casually.

“Wait, I don’t have anything to wear!” I exclaimed. Josh laughed, and finished his coffee.

“Then we’ll take the Portkey later on, which will give us the time we need,” he said happily.

“The time we need?”

“We’re going shopping!”

Muggle money is easy to forge if you know what you’re doing, and then there’s no way their authorities can tell if it’s fake. If you’re paying in massive amounts, obviously they’ll be suspicious at first, but once they confirm that it’s ‘valid’ currency and not some clumsy muggle-made forgery, they’re always more than happy to take as much of it as you fancy transfiguring. This was good – we were shopping in one of the most sophisticated, elite shops in London, and when we had first walked in wearing jeans and jumpers, with Josh’s eye patch, they all looked down their nose at us. Josh had accordingly tipped them all with fifty pound notes, earning us a level of service that was almost embarrassing. Almost. We had been given a private fitting room, and almost every shop assistant had served us in some capacity. Within half an hour they were offering us espresso and champagne while I tried on shoes, assistants slipping sophisticated heels on and off my feet, and Josh tried on various suits in the changing rooms opposite. I was enjoying the attention of the manicurist, and someone was styling my hair. A specialist tailor had been called in to quickly compose several elegant but functional eye patches for him. By the afternoon, we left carrying armfuls of bags, boxes and bundles like something out of the movies. We walked into an empty alleyway and apparated back to Josh’s house to have a late lunch, pack our suitcases and get dressed.

I was wearing a long silvery dress of satin, bound around the waist with a black ribbon tied in a bow on the low back. I had a purse of matching fabric, as well as a burlesque-style miniature top hat of dark grey velvet with a black satin ribbon, the bow fasted with a silver fascinator broach. Beneath the long skirt of the dress, I had black velvet heels with similar silver broaches on the toes and sheer black tights. Around my neck I had draped a white chiffon scarf with delicate black embroidery. Examining myself in a full length mirror that I’d had to dig out of a pile of books, I have to admit that I looked beautiful.

Josh was also wearing satin – black trousers, a dark grey tailcoat and tie, with a black waistcoat that had thin white pinstripes over a white cotton shirt. He had a silver watch chain and tie pin, with a white flower in his buttonhole. He was also wearing a grey satin top hat, and his eye patch was grey satin with a pentacle embroidered on it in thin black thread. His long hair was tied back in a pony tail, his beard was trimmed, and he exuded the delicate smell of vanilla.

“What do you think?” he asked, looking at himself in the mirror over my shoulder and adjusting his tie self-conciously.

“You look quite nice,” I told him.

“I feel massively overdressed,” he moaned, “And I smell like ice cream.”

“What’s wrong with ice cream?” I asked.

“Good point,” he said as he tapped his top hat to an angle experimentally, then put it back on straight.

Hoppy appeared between us, her straight-backed haughtiness enhanced by a tiny pair of pale blue heels, a pale blue dress with golden embroidery and trimming and a massive pale blue hat decorated with golden fruit, through which her long ears stuck up like part of the decoration. A golden veil was pulled down over her face. She looked Josh up and down appraisingly, and then turned to look at me.

“What do you two have against colour?” she asked.

“You look beautiful,” I told her, and she smiled and did a delicate ballerina’s twirl.

“I know!” she said happily.

“Well, if everyone is ready, shall we go?” Josh said, picking up the three small suitcases that held everything our small group would need for our time at Beauxbatons. We apparated away to where the portkey was hidden.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a marquee set up in a field. Of course it was pale blue with golden streamers fluttering in the evening sky and the Beauxbatons crest emblazoned on every surface. An attractive female attendant in a light blue uniform and cute bell-hop hat inspected our invitation and ticked our names off a list. She informed us that the portkey made the journey possible every five minutes, and offered us a glass of champagne while we waited.

While we were waiting, commenting on the vases of flowers arranged around the marquis and listening to Hoppy enthuse about how much more beautiful the Beauxbatons palace would be, other guests arrived. Two men and one woman – even if I hadn’t recognised Percy Weasley’s voice as it approached the entrance to the tent, I recognised his flame-red hair. The man accompanying him, with longer hair tied back but similarly red and long scars down the side of his face was presumably his brother Bill with his wife Fleur. They were all wearing very elegant clothing, but as I looked Fleur up and down, I decided I looked better. After all, I wasn’t a mother of three children, all of them with a tiny fraction of werewolf in them.

“Good evening, Percy,” I said as they approached, taking a glass of champagne offered by the attendant.

“Oh, Miss Baker! May I introduce my brother William and his wife Fleur? William, Fleur, this is Professor Doctor Joshua Grey and Miss Baker.”

“And Madame Hoppy,” added Josh, introducing his elvish assistant.

“Pleased to meet you at last, Professor Doctor,” said Bill, shaking his hand.

“No need for all that pompous nonsense, William. You can call me Josh,” he said.

“And you can call me Bill,” the scar-faced man replied with a lopsided smile.

“Listen, I can see you’ve got a cursed scar or two,” Josh said tactlessly, “Maybe later we could compare notes. I’ve tried just about everything I can on this eye of mine, and nothing has worked.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Bill easily, “I can’t promise much, because nothing has worked on my face either. But we can definitely compare notes. I hear you’re a bit of a genius, maybe you’ll know something that can help with mine.”

“Excellent,” Josh smiled, rubbing beneath his eye patch.

“You look nice,” I said to Fleur.

“Oh, it’s just something I threw on,” she said in a thick French accent, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

“Madame Delacour, is that you?” Hoppy said, looking up happily.

“It’s me,” she said, “I’m afraid I don’t recall…?” Fleur said awkwardly.

“She’s Mrs Weasley now,” Bill said with a smile.

“Even though that makes me sound like your mother,” Fleur said with a sniff.

“It’s me, madame! Hoppy the elf!” said the little figure, “I was your chief patisserie at Beauxbatons!”

“Good grief, Hoppy! It has been so long! How are you? What brings you here?”

“I work for the Professor Doctor now,” said Hoppy, and turned to me to explain, “I was the chief pastry chef at Beauxbatons when Fleur was just a petit belle. I would always catch her sneaking into the kitchen to steal gateaux! She was so adorable, her cheeks stuffed with butter pastry, desperately trying to wipe cake-mix from her fingers on her little flannel nightie, spluttering an explanation and spraying crumbs across the floor. Who would have thought that fat little face would have grown up into such a graceful, beautiful woman? With such a handsome husband?” Hoppy enthused while Fleur’s face grew slowly more red.

“It’s such a small world,” I said, concealing my wide smile. Josh was busy talking to Bill and Percy, but I could see his eye flick to mine as if he sensed the subtle change in my face. I finished my glass and excused myself from Hoppy and Fleur to pick up another while they started speaking French. As I started sipping it, the portkey arrived on its pedestal in a flash of light. It was a life-size glass sculpture of a unicorn, glittering with inner enchantment.

“Madames et monsieurs, if you would all care to step up to the portkey and touch it, the journey will commence. Please put down your glasses before transit,” the attendant said smoothly. I took a large gulp from mine and replaced it on the tray, then joined Hoppy and Josh to place one hand on the statue. Percy, Bill and Fleur faced us on the other side of the sculpture, also touching it. The glass tinkled, and the sculpture turned its head, looking back at me. It was hard to make out with the transparent material, the inner light and the refracted background, but I thought it winked at me. And then we were vanishing, transported across the world.

Everything swirled around, but the world quickly settled down again. I was standing with the unicorn in what appeared to be a dark forest, with Josh and Hoppy on one side and the Weasleys on the other. The unicorn was still looking at me, and suddenly the forest was full of light. Tiny lights were dancing amongst the low tree branches, and I saw we were on a stone dias with steps leading down the hill into the darkness. The unicorn sculpture stamped its hoof with a delicate glass noise, and motioned with its head for us to descend the stairs. As we walked down the stairs, being careful in my heels, the lights dancing in the high branches followed us down, and our path joined a wider one like tributaries of a river, the steps all flowing down the gentle slope to terminate in a courtyard. As we stepped out of the trees, I looked up and gasped at the Beauxbatons palace.

The sun was behind us, shining down at an angle and lighting the pale blue walls, the golden spires, and shining in the large windows with golden filigree borders. There were countless golden towers, glittering like crystals in the setting sun. From each one, long flags waved and snapped in the breeze. The whole palace stood out like an elaborate, delicate cake against the darkening sky behind it. There were blue and yellow fireworks going off in the sky that detonated without a noise, splashing the courtyard with coloured light as the sun descended. From somewhere, there was the sound of gentle stringed instruments being plucked and strummed like stereotypical cupid music – indeed, as well as the fireworks, the lights that had followed us in the forest were now dancing around us in the air before returning to the forest behind us.

The courtyard was busy with attendants, elves and other gala guests all gracefully swanning around. One of the attendants was striding towards us across the courtyard bordered by the dark trees, two elves trotting along behind him. Josh showed him our invitation while Hoppy made some quick conversation in French with the elves. The attendant waited patiently and our bags vanished away with the elves, then the attendant motioned for us to continue to the front doors of the palace, framed by pale blue pillars with more golden decoration and a floral pattern in darker blue tracing up them. 

“This place is amazing,” Josh commented, looking up at the palace in awe.

“It is quite pretty,” said Fleur, linking arms with her husband.

“It’s alright,” I said.

“Do you still know anyone here?” Josh was asking Hoppy.

“Well, I asked those two just now, and it seems a few of my old friends are still around. I’m sure they’re working tonight, but I’ll see if I can’t find them to say hello.”

“It must be weird to be coming back here as a guest,” he said to her.

“Are you serious? This is brilliant. I will be able to critique the service without fear of reprisal. I never got on very well with the housemistress, maybe this will be my chance for revenge,” Hoppy said, and cackled jubilantly. Josh and Bill were laughing with her.

“I think I like your elf,” Bill said, nudging Josh on the shoulder.

“She has her moments,” Josh said with a grin.

We walked in through the huge ornate golden doors, the crowd forming a bottleneck. I squeezed up with dozens of other wizards and witches, all proceeding with as much elegance as possible as we shuffled forwards. The doors were huge golden slabs carved with engravings of branches that swirled like the growth of a tree, overlapping and entwining amongst each other. The entrance hall was huge. I looked up at the swirling patterns on the ceiling of hues of gold and blue, but now the ceiling was supported with white marble columns and there were classical sculptures around the hall making graceful gestures. The sculptures above the doorway in some sort of frieze kept making welcoming motions at the gala guests as we all came in. Trays of glasses were floating around the room, hovering through the air, containing sparkling liquid whose colours faded from yellow-gold through transparency to blue-saphire, then back to transparent before turning yellow. Everyone was taking one, but as soon as they did, the glass was magically replaced and filled with drink from nowhere. I took one, and it tasted like champagne at first, but as the colour changed it started to taste like nothing I’ve ever experienced. The closest I can describe is that it tasted like blue champagne, but not just the colour, also somehow the flavour.

We were all still filtering through into what appeared to be an even larger hall, being coaxed and invited by the sculptures through a large marble arch. The ceiling was a breath-taking mural that moved and shimmered, and the walls were lined with more pale blue panelling and gold filigree with occasional sculptures of white marble. There was a balcony overlooking the hall, with golden railings and wide marble stairs that were currently barred with glittering golden ropes. 

“Are those sculptures starting to seem creepy?” Josh asked as we found ourselves being pushed further into the chamber. Josh found us a slightly more open area, and Hoppy leapt up onto one of the pedestals of the sculptures to get a better view of the crowd. There must have been five hundred people, and more were arriving every minute. The hall was rapidly filling up.

By the time it was nearing capacity and people in the centre were starting to feel slightly cramped, the stream of people had become a trickle until finally it seemed like most of the guests had arrived. From the balcony I heard the loud noise of echoing hooves clopping on marble, and centaurs arrived at the golden railing, looking out over the crowd with proud, haughty expressions. They were wearing pale blue tunics with gold emblems on them, and as everyone fell silent and looked up at them, they raised large golden trumpets to their lips and started to blow a loud, proud, musical announcement, heralding the arrival of a tremendously huge woman. She was wearing long, ornate robes of black, blue and silver and her neck-length black hair was flecked with grey. She peered down at the crowd through blue-lensed, gold-framed glasses and tapped her wand on the balcony to silence the last few whisperers, then pointed it at her throat to amplify her voice.

“Ladies and gentlemen, madams et monseurs, whether you are human or otherwise, welcome to the four hundredth annual gala of Beauxbatons, to celebrate our quad-centennial anniversary!” she said, raising her arms triumphantly. The statues were clapping and applauding wildly, followed swiftly by the rest of the crowd until the huge lady motioned for silence. “My name is Madame Maxime, I am the headmistress of this school and madame of this palace. It is my pleasure to welcome you here tonight to this spectacular event! Very shortly we will open the stairway, and there will be a reception followed by a light banquet, a few speeches and then the band will fire up and we can all dance the night away. The gardens are also accessible, as are the balconies and towers. Basically, if a door is locked, don’t go through it, but otherwise you are free to roam, madams et monsieurs!” she said, and the crowd chuckled appreciatively. “At any point, you may ask our attendants or our elves for assistance, or indeed those who have reserved accommodation can be escorted to their rooms. I would ask that you treat them with respect and grace at all times, of course. With that said, my honoured guests, I can only repeat myself and welcome you once more to the great palace of Le Beauxbatons Academie De Sorcellerie!” she said in conclusion, and the crowd erupted once more into applause and cheers. There were explosions around the borders of the ceilings, showering golden glitter and blue ribbons into the room. While some of it fluttered down into the crowd, most of it swirled up into the air and over the balcony, in front of Madame Maxime, floating in formation to spell out the words ‘Heureux Quatre Cents’. The applause continued for several minutes until the golden rope across the stairs was released.

Josh, Hoppy and I wandered up, got fresh glasses of multi-coloured, multi-flavoured champagne and then walked out into the gardens to avoid the crush of the crowd in this new hall that was decorated much the same. The huge gardens were as spectacular as the rest of the palace, bordered on three sides by wings of the building with its pillars and soaring spires and wide windows that were now filling with light in the dark evening, glowing like magical gems. Guests were already filtering out in their spectacular outfits, and sure enough I saw a few centaurs and goblins also escaping out into the open air with their drinks, out of the crowd.

The flower beds were full of glowing bluebells and yellow roses along with several other plants and shrubs of varying hues, from burgundy and puce to teal and sapphire amongst the rich emerald greens and cool turquoise. A few gnarled olive trees were decorated with hanging lanterns, and several tall oaks had those same floating lights flickering amongst the branches. In the centre there was a massive fountain, spraying water from the mouth of a huge magical dolphin sculpture in white marble, that grinned as it swivelled and wriggled on its podium. Beautiful water nymphs, no longer native to the British Isles, were frolicking in the large pond that the fountain towered over, laughing and singing as they splashed each other. The guests were all sharing in their joy, conversing in light, bright voices.

I spotted Bill and Fleur also drinking in the rich scents coming off the flowers and plants a short distance away, lit by the flickering, dancing lights amongst the branches of an old oak tree. I waved them over whilst Hoppy lectured Josh on the history of the gardens, the ages and legacies of the various trees.

“But what about the land the palace itself was built on? What happened to the millennia-old trees in that case?” Josh asked.

“I’m not sure,” Hoppy shrugged, “Did you know that Merlin was supposedly buried in this part of the country? There is one tree out in the wider grounds of the palace that rumour says he is buried beneath.”

“I thought he was buried beneath a magical hill in Cornwall, or beneath a thorn tree in Scotland,” Josh said.

“Well, who knows,” she shrugged petulantly.

“So what do you suppose we’re drinking? Fleur says she knows, but she won’t tell me,” said Bill as he approached our little group.

“Whatever it is, I like it,” Josh said as he finished his drink. As he held the glass, it magically refilled, the liquid pouring into the glass from the bottom and swirling around, bubbling up. Josh looked immensely pleased, “Good grief, this is amazing!”

“This is like a dream come true for him,” Hoppy commented, and I felt relaxed enough to laugh.

“Why can’t every drink be like this?” Bill added, and even Fleur smiled at that before it froze on her face, her distant gaze seeing something that made me turn.

“Oh no, it’s him,” she whispered to me conspiratorially, her face falling. I followed her gaze and saw Percy striding towards us down the garden path.

“Come now, my darling. He’s family, after all,” Bill scolded her gently.

“Family is important,” Josh muttered as Percy arrived.

“I say, this is quite something, eh?” he said, gesturing around him.

“Are you not drinking the champagne?” Josh asked, noticing the glass in his hand was plain orange juice with golden glitter floating through it.

“A man in my position should remain lucid and competent at all times,” Percy said proudly, and sipped at his orange juice.

“It’s your night off, Perce,” commented Bill, “At least make it a Bucks Fizz. It’d be interesting to see what happens to the colour when it’s mixed with something already orange.”

“Yeah, it might go green!” Josh added.

“I’m quite alright, thank you, William.”

“Let’s just try it. If you don’t like it, I’ll go and get you a fresh drink myself. How does that sound, Percy? Why not enter into the spirit of the occasion, just this once,” Bill said, nudging Percy with his elbow. He grudgingly accepted, pouring half of Bill’s champagne into his orange juice. The reaction was startling – not only was the juice changing from a bright, unhealthy yellow to a deep, lush green, but the gold flakes were popping in little sparks like they were burning.

“Woah,” Hoppy said.

“I’m not sure I should drink this. It’s doing strange things to the gold flakes, which were just extravagant and fairly unpleasant to begin with,” Percy said.

“It does look a bit dangerous,” Bill said.

“I’ll drink it,” said Josh happily, and Percy readily passed him the glass. Josh took a sip, swilling it in his mouth and then swallowing. He frowned, his focus turned inwards.

“Well?” I said, after a brief pause.

“Tastes like orange juice and champagne,” he said, passing it back to Percy.

“I was expecting something… more,” Bill said.

“Me too,” said Josh.

“Me three,” said Fleur.

“I say, this isn’t half bad!” said Percy as he took a large gulp.

We had some pleasant conversation while Bill talked to Josh about being a curse-breaker for Gringotts Bank, and Josh reminisced about his work with the Auror Support Office. They both grumbled about how the management and upper levels of command never appreciated what an operator in the field would really want, instead burdening everyone with redundant, badly-designed equipment. It was quite endearing to listen to these two seasoned men rattle on about common complaints in the midst of all this excessive glamour. I had imagined Fleur would be bored of the conversation, but she hung on Bill’s every word with a touching devotion. Her eyes widened as he told us stories about the various dangers of the tombs of Egypt, even though the way she was mouthing along to some of the words and joining in the punch lines told me she’d heard them all before. Josh started to sympathise and share some of our own adventures, but those stories shouldn’t be told in public, much less polite company.

“Oh look, it’s Minister Shacklebolt,” I said, interrupting him, pointing at the tall black man striding out into the garden, surrounded by an entourage. I could see several other important international figures, from the Brazilian Minister and the Australian diplomat to the Salem headmaster, the high chief centaur and the goblin king, but Shacklebolt was the only noteworthy person with whom I had once been on first name terms.

“Oh my!” said Percy, quickly drinking his entire glass to hide its alcoholic content.

“He looks taller now, than in the old days,” Bill observed.

“The bad old days,” muttered Josh, “Everyone can stand up taller now, I suppose.”

“Those of us that can still stand,” Bill agreed.

“It’s weird,” Fleur said to me, “For such a gentle, eccentric, charming country, your men are such valiant warriors.”

“Dear me!” said Hoppy next to my waist, “I won’t tolerate all this sulking over things long since past. Not here, not today. Why don’t I get us some more drinks?”

“I’ll help!” said Percy, “We may as well just grab a whole tray.” I noticed that his cheeks had grown quite red beneath his freckles.

“Oh dear, what have I done?” Bill grinned, holding his wife close as he watched Hoppy and Percy rush off into the crowd inside.

“Isn’t that your brother that Kingsley is talking to?” I asked Josh, pointing into the crowd.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Fleur said.

“Well, no. Why would you? You only met him tonight,” I said.

“He’s quite famous though, no? His inspiration to send wizards to the moon and such. I have read quite a bit about you, Professor Doctor.”

“That’s very flattering,” he said, and in his eye I could see an enchanted glimmer, “If I’ve heard right, you have a veela somewhere in your lineage, right?”

“You’re quite observant. Not everyone realises what’s happening,” she said.

“Well, I’ve had a bit of experience with mind-altering things,” he said, grinning, and Bill laughed.

“Having children that are part wolf, part veela and part human must be challenging,” Josh said.

“You’d be surprised how easy it is once you get the hang of it,” Bill said.

“How does it compare to breaking ancient Egyptian curses?” Josh asked.

“Well, more difficult, certainly,” Bill joked, “But once you know what to look for, everything falls into place. I’ve had a fair amount of mind-altering things in my time, as well.”

They spent a few minutes competing about who had the best story of inebriation – Bill won, having once been on the receiving end of a curse that made him smell colour, hear smells and see sounds.

“Are you not going to speak to your brother?” Fleur said as our laughter died away. Josh’ face fell and he studied his glass of champagne as it changed colour, then drank it in one gulp.

“It’s been a while since they spoke,” I said to the couple, and they looked at each other in their awkwardness. I turned to Josh, “Come on, let’s go say hello. You said it would be easier with a friend by your side, right?”

“Yeah, okay,” said Josh reluctantly.

“We’ll be right back,” I said to the couple.

“Can I borrow this?” Josh said to Fleur, taking her glass.

At the start, I was striding forwards while Josh followed me through the increasingly crowded garden – the night was warm, and many people were realising that it was a lovely night to be outside. But as we grew closer to Shackletbolt and his group, and Andrew Grey, Josh started to stride beside me. His pace was so quick, so bold, that I worried about what he’d do when we finally made our way there.

“Minister Shackletbolt,” I said, greeting him through his entourage.

“Ah, Miss Baker! And Professor Doctor Grey, what a pleasure. Both of the Grey brothers at once! This surely can’t occur very often,” he said, his rich, soothing voice killing the elephant in the room before anyone even noticed it.

“Hello brother,” said Josh quietly, taking a sip from his drink.

“I have nothing to say to you,” he said. His voice was high and nasal as if he hadn’t aged at all. His black hair was in a long side-parting, flattened down to his scalp. He had a pair of rimless glasses and a thin moustache that stretched out beyond his upper lip, and he was wearing a dark brown double-breasted suit on his long, skinny body. With Josh’s eye patch and beard and Andrew’s thin moustache, it was hard to detect any family resemblance – they stood differently, spoke differently and their faces were quite separate. But there was something in their bone structure, deep down.

“Everyone,” said Shackletbolt, speaking above the babble of the crowd, “I hear there is the legend of a tree here beneath which Merlin is buried. I wish to view it. Mister Grey, Professor Doctor, perhaps you should stay here. Miss Baker, I trust we’ll have no trouble this evening?” he said, giving me what might have been a slight, knowing smile before he strode off into the garden, pursued by his entourage of aurors, petitioners, hangers-on and delegates. In the wake of his massive crowd, it felt quite lonely and very frosty between the two brothers. The party seemed to ebb and flow around them as they stood at forty five degree angles to each other, barely facing. As a result both ended up looking down at me.

“So, it’s been a while, eh?” I said, “I hear you’re living here now, Andrew. In this country.”

“Well, I  _ am _ the Ministry’s ambassador. It makes sense to make my home here, for the benefit of my career,” Andrew said.

“And I’m sure the weather is lovely,” I said.

“The weather is inconsequential,” he said, raising one eyebow.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, you’re still a dick!” exclaimed Josh, flying off the handle, “She was just making idle small-talk, there was no need to be so fucking dismissive. I mean, how’s she supposed to reply to that? Is she just supposed to shrug you off, and continue chattering away? Is she supposed to say ‘my god, you’re so right, I’ll never discuss the weather again’? I mean, why would you purposefully make it hard to talk to you?”

“I don’t care what she’s supposed to do, I was merely stating a fact,” Andrew snapped back.

“You weren’t ‘merely’ doing anything! You were being rude! And you know you were! You’re old enough now to understand that!” Josh said.

“It always comes down to age with you!”

“Only because you’re so immature!”

“I’m far more responsible than you!”

“You’re a coward!” shouted Josh, and Andrew looked alarmed at the volume of the statement. He was glancing around at the crowd that were starting to take an interest in the argument while Josh continued, “Why didn’t you come to see me in prison? Why haven’t you replied to any of my letters? Were you embarrassed or shamed or whatever?”

“That’s irrelevant,” said Andrew.

“Sweet fuck, it’s entirely relevant! It’s all there is! We can see each other through mum and dad’s death, but you can’t tolerate me being in Azkaban?”

“This is hardly the place to have this conversation,” said Andrew.

“What the fuck are you talking about? It’s not like you’ll talk to me otherwise!” shouted Josh. He finished his drink, took his brother’s hand and gave him the empty glass. Then he stormed off, and I saw that he was walking back to Bill and Fleur, who both looked a little disturbed by what must have been a furious expression on his face. From the corner of my eye I saw Percy and Hoppy returning with drinks – that would probably keep him occupied for several minutes.

“You’re too hard on him,” I said to Andrew, staring after his brother through his glasses.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he said, without looking at me.

“Why? Because you know me so well?”

“Because you’re Slytherin,” he said. His tone, more than his words, made me pause in shock.

“Seriously? You’re going to use that against me? Not everyone in Slytherin is a dark wizard, you know. Not all of us are evil.”

“He should have been in your house,” he said.

“I’ve thought that many times. But you say that like it’s a bad thing. If you’re so proud of being such a Ravenclaw, you should know the history of my house, right? It’s not about evil, it’s about subtlety. It’s not about darkness, it’s about creativity. Your brother may not be subtle, but you can’t deny that he’s fairly creative.”

“Far too creative. I knew he’d be sent to Azkaban, sooner or later. He’s always experimenting, pushing boundaries, testing new ground. He’s never been satisfied with just fitting in,” Andrew sighed.

“So that’s why you don’t talk to him?”

“I don’t talk to him because he’s reckless. He’s dangerous. He doesn’t know when to stop. The whole world might think his space-travel-magic idea was innovative genius, but people have said that before and it’s always blown up in his face. The more people are involved, the more will die. I’m making my own career on my own terms, and I need nothing from him. It’s all just leprechaun gold – it’ll turn to shit before he’s through, you mark my words,” said Andrew, “Now excuse me, I need to find somewhere to put these empty glasses. As usual,” he said, and sniffed despondently as he wandered off, leaving me alone in the crowd. I watched him go, wondering at his attitude. Eventually I had to just shrug, and make my own way back to Josh, Bill, Percy, Fleur and Hoppy.

Josh remained fairly quiet for the rest of the reception while Fleur and Hoppy exchanged gossip about the various Beauxbatons teachers, telling the rest of us the entertaining tales and exploits that any school has. I was growing bored, watching the lights dance in the tall trees of the garden, when I saw something strange. It was only a fraction of a second, but it looked like a shadow moved somewhere deep inside the tree branches, avoiding the darting, glittering lights as they sparkled on their random, whimsical paths.

“What are those lights?” I asked Hoppy.

“Those are the fay-folk. The fairies, I think you call them in your language,” she said, “There is an ancient spell binding the school to them. This is one of the few reserves in France that still permits them to thrive, in exchange for certain services.”

“Certain services?”

“Well, lighting the grounds, the dark woods surrounding the palace. And alerting the authorities to any intruders, of course.”

“So, if there was an intruder, there’d be someone in charge who would know about it, right?” I said, looking back up at the dark branches above me, and the darkening sky beyond that with its emerging stars.

“Well, yes. But on a night like tonight, with all these people wandering around, who can say?” Hoppy said, looking up at me with eyes that shimmered in the light, “Why do you ask?”

“Where’s that tree you were talking about? The one Merlin is supposedly buried under?”

“It’d be easier if I showed you. It’s not exactly sign-posted,” she said, looking confused.

“I think you better show me, then,” I said.


	3. Chapter 3

We left Percy, Bill, Fleur and Josh as the discussion turned to the various applications of dragon products – scales, hair, tongues, organs and blood. Fleur seemed to think that a little bit of dragon blood could perform wonders for the skin, while Josh insisted that it would be highly toxic. Hoppy led me past several flower beds that mostly contained mundane plants that only smelt fantastic, but there were some centrepieces surrounded by hardy shrubs and sculptures designed to frame their beauty. There were a few plants that danced under the growing moonlight from the half-moon above us, several that sang beautiful melodies into the night sky, and a couple that were so iridescent that it hurt to look at the changing colours. But nevertheless, she led me past all of the beautiful marvels, explaining at length about how Josh was wrong about Cornwall and Scotland and how Merlin had finally come to rest here, in the south of France, due to a variety of circumstances that I barely paid attention to. She led me down some stone steps to the open lawn that eventually gave way to forest in the darkness, with the fairies dancing in the trees above us like slowly flickering firelight of many hues and colours. And after a short walk in this brightly lit forest with an astonishingly clear floor made of solid clay and smooth roots that it seemed almost impossible to trip over, we arrived in a large clearing in front of a giant tree.

The tree was massively tall, rivalling a sky-scraper. If I had to compare, I’d say it was at least seven, eight, maybe even nine stories. The mass of foliage above me made it impossible to estimate, but my first impression was that it was at least as high as the Big Ben tower in London. At its narrowest point, the trunk of the tree was equal to that venerable tower, but the roots spread out into the ground like a massive pile of bark and twisted growth, and the branches stretched out over me like lightning in the sky. The glowing fairies in the branches above us seemed to shy away from it, as if it were distasteful. I couldn’t see the problem – the whole tree seemed massively healthy, even warm compared to the mundane fauna around it.

I saw a small wand-light dancing around the base as Shackletbolt and his group examined it from every angle, many of his followers looking bored and despondant.

“Excuse me, minister!” I said, striding across the clearing while Hoppy followed me.

“Miss Baker!” he exclaimed, “I thought we said no trouble!”

“Believe me, I’d rather that was the case. I’m supposed to be on holiday. But I was wondering about the nature of the relationship between your security team and Beauxbatons.”

“The relationship?” asked Shackletbolt, before the entourage still surrounding him started babbling their objections.

“That’s top secret!”

“Who is this woman?”

“Minister, I counsel silence.”

“She has no right!”

“She may be a risk!”

“Silence!” demanded Shackletbolt, his voice booming out across the clearing and startling the fairies so that we were all left in temporary darkness. There was sulky, disconsolate muttering while the lights slowly returned, circling in the trees around the clearing like wary spectators. “Miss Baker, what reason do you have to believe the security is compromised?”

“I’m acting on behalf of several powerful parties,” I lied, “So I can’t tell you. But I’d appreciate it if one of your security team accompanied me back to the main palace to make inquiries.”

“I’m sure,” said Shackletbolt, who clapped one of his subordinates on the shoulder and pushed him towards me, “Escort these two ladies to Madame Maxime. Make sure they’re briefed on the full security arrangements for this palace.”

“Yes, Mr Shacklebolt,” said the pale-faced man in a non-descript suit with thick glasses that refracted his eyes.

Hoppy and I stood there awkwardly while Shackletbolt went back to looking up at the tree ponderously, and his generic assistant wandered off into the woods. He motioned for us to follow, so we both exchanged a glance and followed him into the dark trees. The lights were flickering above us in the branches of the trees, and Hoppy was trotting alongside me while we both followed behind the stranger. I was inspecting his back, wondering how trustworthy he was , when he swivelled on his heel and stared at me from behind his glasses.

“Miss Baker?” he asked.

“Who’s asking?” Hoppy said, pushing my knee with a spindly hand so that I stopped walking.

“Miss Lucinda Baker? I’ve heard that there is a reasonable price upon your head.”

“If you say so,” I said.

“Be very careful about what you say now,” said Hoppy.

“I intend to,” I said.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she said, “You do realise you are in the depths of one of the most secure areas of this country, in which you are a stranger? Any profit you hope to make from her death will be just a fraction of what it will take to earn your freedom should lay a hand upon a single hair of her head,” she growled, and I saw her posture change slightly.

I have seen elves geared up for ruthless, bloodthirsty war that had less aggressive postures and expressions than her. The man in front of us, blocking the forest path, was looking at her with a strange expression behind his glasses. He was reaching for his wand while he stretched out one hand in front of him defensively, like it would project some sort of unspoken shield.

“You’ve killed vampires. You’ve ransacked governments,” he stated, “You preserve a database of forbidden knowledge as part of your daily lifestyle. You have contacts in every level of civilization, from ghosts and goblins to centaurs and dementors. Are you her? Are you Miss Lucinda Baker?”

“I’m supposed to be on holiday,” I said.

It was the only thing I could think of. I really had come here expecting an easy night, away from assassins and political intrigue. But now it seemed this man, entirely bound up with the Ministry, was prepared to kill me for the bounty. Even though his hand was hovering near his wand and he was staring at us through his glasses with a murderous look, I couldn’t help but my own hand was hovering near my own wand. Apart from the darkness, the trees and the flittering fairies above us in the branches, this could have been an old-fashioned stand-off from a classic spaghetti western.

“I suppose I’ll let you carry on then,” he said, looking from me to Hoppy and then back to me. He turned around, showing his back to us, and squared his shoulders defiantly before he continued down the forest path. Hoppy and I exchanged an expression once more and then reluctantly continued to follow him. “I’ll take you to Madame Maixme,” he said, “In exchange, please don’t tell anyone about my brief moment of weakness. The bounty on you, Miss Baker, is quite substantial. Enough to make anyone think twice. I was weak. I apologise.”

“Who’s offering the bounty?” I demanded, drawing my wand while Hoppy adopted the stance of a martial artists with weak, bouncing limbs.

“I’m afraid I don’t know. It’s just common knowledge,” said the Ministry man, continuing to walk ahead of us, “In my madness I wondered whether they might not realise I was responsible for your murder and pay me anyway. Sight unseen, as it were.”

“I for one am quite glad you had second thoughts,” I said as we followed him back into the gardens proper, stepping down onto the slate paving.

“The second thoughts are what they pay me for,” he said.

“What’s your name?” Hoppy asked.

“Jones. Terrence Jones,” he said, motioning us forwards without looking back, “I am Minister Shackleton’s  _ chief _ of second thoughts, you might say. This is why he has trusted me with your safe transport,” he said as we arrived back at the main gardens of the palace with the majority of the precious plants.

“It can’t be so dangerous as you make out,” Hoppy said, while I glanced back up at the tall oak tree in which I had seen a shadow dancing amongst the flickering lights. Hoppy and I followed Terrence Jones into the main chamber of the palace, seeking out Madame Maxime. She wasn’t hard to spot, looming over the rest of the crowd like an iceberg even though she was surrounded by quite a large crowd. She was casting appraising looks over the crowd, monitoring the drinks service.

“Excuse me, madame? Would you mind quickly going over the security arrangements for the benefit of my colleague?”

“Ah, oui. Monsieur Jones, non? All of the personnel that required a security briefing have had one. All essential personnel have all the essential knowledge. Why wasn’t your colleague included in the briefing?”

“She had other duties,” Jones said.

“Wait, is that Hoppy?” said Madame Maxime, bending down low to the ground and inspecting the elf with pleasure.

“Bonjour madame. It is good to see you again. I trust you are well?”

“Many mornings I wake up missing your fine cooking, Hoppy. Is your new master caring for you well?”

“I am very happy in my position,” she said happily, “This is Madame Baker, an associate of my master.” 

“Well, listen carefully,” Maxime said, standing up straight and turning to me, “There are the standard anti-apparition enchantments, a special flight-forbidding spell just for tonight, and only very specific portkey signatures are permitted,” she said in a thick French accent, “There are curse-shields covering every angle of the grounds, and the  Gouvernement de la Magie has provided guards and agents to supervise every room of the palace. If any curse is fired, anywhere on the palace grounds, I will be alerted. The spirits of this palace will then inform the key targets and any high-risk individuals. There are safe-rooms in secrect locations which you do not have clearance to know, madame,” she finished, looking down at me.

“What if someone were to just walk onto the grounds?” I asked, mulling over her words.

“If they could get past the palace walls, which they cannot, they would rouse the fey-folk in the forest, who would sound an alarm. Many of the Gouvernement de la Magie agents are stationed on the walls. The alarm sounds if they leave their posts.”

“But there are so many strangers around tonight. Have the fairies memorised the guest-list?” I asked.

“They can sense who is an invited guest and who is not. They are really very bright creatures, for their size. So you see, we are all completely safe.”

“Well, what about the secret passages?” I asked.

“This palace is very newly built, compared to your old, crumbling castle of Hogwarts. There are no secret passages, and our students would never have any reason to use them, of course,” she said haughtily.

“What about vanishing cabinets, or Floo powder?”

“We have neither of those, and our fireplaces are not connected to the network. If you’ll excuse me, Madame Baker, was it? If I have reassured you, please do enjoy the rest of the party. Hoppy, it is a pleasure as always. Perhaps we will have a chance to talk further later on,” she said, and turned to speak to the headmaster of the Indian school of magic who was wearing a large turban and a monocle.

“So, how were you planning on collecting that bounty?” I asked Jones as we walked away.

“I suspect I could have summoned ropes without alerting anyone. Do you feel reassured, like she said?”

“Not really. I think I saw something moving in the branches,” I confessed.

“It was probably just a bird or something. Excuse me, I should go and find the Minister,” he said, shaking my hand and taking his leave. I wondered back with Hoppy to Josh, Bill, Fleur and Percy.

“Did you enjoy the tree?” Josh asked, and his cheeks were growing slightly red beneath his beard. I wondered if it was possible for him to start seeing double with only one eye, and realised I was becoming slightly tipsy myself.

“I don’t think Merlin is buried beneath it, but it’s definitely pretty weird.”

“Merlin is definitely under there!” protested Hoppy.

At that moment a magically amplified voice soothingly invited us to move through into the dining room, echoing out over the gentle babble of conversation floating around the warm, dark gardens. Our party waited for most of the rest of the crowd to filter through, back into the palace. Eventually we followed them, leaving our empty glasses on the floating trays and walking through several long halls. I could see the plush blue carpeting of the floor, now. The walls were lined with portraits of elegant men and women in classic French costumes, the women with powdered white faces and tall white wigs with tiny black beauty spots and little dogs. One of the men wearing a wide-brimmed hat with a long blue feather and the Beauxbatons crest on his tunic was flourishing his rapier around his painting. He noticed me and twirled his long, thick moustache as he winked at me with smiling blue eyes. I waved as we walked past.

Eventually the crowd we were walking with arrived at the crowd surrounding the place setting diagrams. Bill and Josh struggled into the crowd to find where our table was while Fleur, Hoppy and I watched the other dinner guests entering the room. When they’d found our table number, almost everyone had taken their seats. Bill and Fleur were sitting across the room from us, so they wandered off, promising they’d find us again later.

The room was gorgeous and spectacular. It was several stories tall, the walls lined with the same tasteful pastel blue panelling with darker floral patterns swirling across it. The high ceiling was supported by white marble pillars with gold highlights that tapered up into high arches. Several large, golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, sparkling with crystals and bright white lights. There were panels of mirrors on the high ceiling, but they were so high that it was nearly impossible to make out anything. White, gold and blue ribbons were fluttering from the high pillars. The tables were large and circular, with white cloths, gold-trimmed wine glasses, gold cutlery with blue marble-patterned handles and centrepieces of blue roses, white lilies and sparkling, glittering golden twigs. Wood nymphs were floating around the room, floating up to the high ceiling and circling the chandeliers before fluttering down to the tables, flirting with the crowd taking their seats as they serenaded us with beautiful, haunting music.

I saw Madame Maxime taking a seat at the circular head table at the far end of the room with other wizards and witches that were presumably the other school staff. The centaurs around the room were standing at their tables were sitting on their haunches, whisking their tails across the floor to keep anyone from stepping on them. Hoppy, Josh and I found our table, but as we approached I saw that the other people sitting at our table included Andrew Grey. Some well-meaning event planner had obviously placed the two brothers together. He looked up in alarm as we approached – obviously he hadn’t checked the names on the place-holders of the table. The other people sitting at our table were a diverse spread of international wizards. There were a couple of Brazilian wizards with a massive, bushy white beards. One was wearing a tall, pointed hat and he had icy, pale blue eyes. The rest of the diners were all blond-haired and white-skinned, talking in loud American accents.

“Andrew,” said Josh, greeting his brother.

“Joshua. And Miss Baker,” he nodded to me.

“I’m sure you can just go back to calling me Lucinda,” I said as Josh pulled out the chair for me, next to Andrew’s. Josh then pulled out Hoppy’s and sat next to me, so that I was between the two brothers. I shivered in the awkward atmosphere while Josh started making friends with the Brazilian wizard next to Hoppy, an easy conversation springing up as they all discussed the wood nymph’s singing. On my other side, Andrew was being bothered by one of the Americans who didn’t respond to Andrew’s frosty tones and cold manner, ignoring his obvious reluctance to talk and jabbering on anyway.

Waitresses were offering us a white wine, which I accepted gladly. Josh and I insisted on large glasses while Andrew asked if they had any still water, sneering at the waitress.

“Hoppy said the waitresses are volunteers from the students at the school,” I mentioned to him, “I heard someone saying that it’s good training for the young girls to know about decency, deportment and stuff. How to be posh, and stuff.”

“It will teach them a lot,” Andrew agreed.

“It’s a bit sexist, though,” I said, “I mean, where are all the boys?”

“This school is more focused on witches,” said Andrew, “Just like Durmstrang is more focused on wizards. While they exist, the wizards of Beauxbatons aren’t promoted as much to the outsiders like us. Meanwhile the witches are thrown in our faces like glitter to prevent us seeing the truth of the school.”

“What’s the truth of the school?” I asked.

“Not everything is as perfect as Maxime would like us to believe,” Andrew said.

At that point, the wood nymphs ceased singing and a gong sounded. Three large golden tureens of soup appeared on our table, surrounding the centrepiece. It smelt delicious – the steam coming from the soup carried with it a spicy, fishy aroma with fresh herbs. Small platters of bread also appeared, with small dishes of olive oil and balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper pots, butter dishes and bowls of olives. The nymphs started singing again, to compliment the meal.

“That smells fantastic,” said Josh, “Lucinda, would you care for some?” he asked, offering to fill my bowl from the tureen, then offering to fill those of hi Brazilian neighbour. On my other side, Andrew was waiting patiently for the Americans to fill their bowls until Josh offered him some. Andrew accepted, passing his plate across mine while he gathered up a few bread rolls. Josh filled the bowl and passed it back.

“Thank you,” Andrew said.

“You’re welcome,” Josh said.

“Isn’t this nice?” I said, and tried the soup. It tasted even better than it smelt – the delicate flavour of the fish was enhanced by the herbs and spices rather than overwhelmed by it.

“I’m not a massive fan of soup in general,” Josh said. 

“This is quite passable,” Hoppy said, sniffing at the soup, “But they’ve overused the chives.”

“What’s this about how the school isn’t as perfect, or whatever?” I asked Andrew in a hushed tone.

“It’s nothing. I’ve said too much,” he said. I was about to ask more about it, prepared to wring out any information from him that might be relevant to my safety, but one of the Americans spoke up loudly, drowning out any conversation at the table.

“Say, I know you. You’re Professor Doctor Grey, ain’t you? The one who had the idea to send wizards to the moon?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” said Josh.

“What was that about, anyway? I mean, the muggles already did it, right? Was that the point, just to prove that wizards can do it quicker and cheaper?”

“Well, no,” said Josh, leaning forward over his soup and slurping it clumsily, brushing it out of his beard, “Apart from the advances in magic and research, and promoting international cooperation? Several governments around the world have been conducting experiments both in space and on the lunar surface. I believe even the research department of your Salem Witches Institute has some staff up there now, studying the use of moon-dust in wands. The results have been very interesting, they’re a credit to your nation,” Josh said with a smile.

“I believe the centaurs are opposed to the project?” piped up the Brazilian wizard with a tall hat and blue eyes.

“Well, certainly they had some objections. They venerate space, the moon and the stars. But we’ve actually been working closely with several of their most prominent soothsayers and astrologers recently. Some are in training even now to join the researchers on the lunar surface.”

“Nevertheless, there are still centaurs who believe the wizards are over-extending themselves? I believe the word hubris has been used at times,” the Brazilian wizard continued.

“There are wizards, witches, goblins and ghouls who all still disagree with the whole endeavour,” said Josh, frowning, “Some of their concerns are genuine, but mostly it’s just people being pointlessly negative. It’s like when people started using magic carpets instead of brooms, a millennium and a half ago. Some people just hate new ideas on principle, you know? Even now, magic carpets aren’t exactly mainstream,” Josh said, and continued slurping his soup. On my other side, I was aware of Andrew stiffening, already taking offense at something Josh had said.

“I know what you mean,” said the American, “Even back home, there’s not much innovation. And here in the old world, it’s like everyone’s clinging to the dust and cobwebs of the old ways.”

“Well, they’ve worked for thousands of years,” Andrew said, “What makes you think you’re wiser than the millions of people since the dawn of time, who accepted our ways without complaint or struggle?”

“Are you going to argue with the Statute of Secrecy?” Josh said, “It’s also relatively recent, compared to the history of the world.”

“That was essential legislature,” Andrew snapped.

“What do you think of the soup, Andrew? I remember that you have quite a refined palate, non?” said Hoppy, interrupting what was soon to become an argument.

“It is as you said. They have overused the chives,” he said, the tension ebbing out of his voice.

“Well, I like it,” said the American wizard loudly.

As he spoke, the soup tureens vanished, along with our soup bowls. The bread remained, along with the associated condiments, but Hoppy was left holding her soup spoon, and a clouded expression was gathering on her face. She slapped her spoon down on the table, spraying a few drops of the fishy fluid over the tablecloth.

“Sacre bleu! What the hell? What kind of thing is that to happen? That was barely any time for a first course!” she complained.

“They have a timetable,” Andrew said.

“It was rude! I was only just starting to enjoy it, overcoming their chive-stinking soup and experience the flavours beneath it, and then they go and snatch it away!” she complained, finishing her glass of wine and hiccupping loudly.

“You have a great deal of passion for someone of your size,” observed the Brazilian wizard next to her.

“And in turn, you have a lack of passion for someone your size,” Hoppy replied, looking up at him with a grin. The wizard laughed with a loud, deep, bellowing laugh.

“Passion is just distraction,” Andrew said, and I saw Josh bridle at his, straightening his back and folding his hands over, looking down at them.

“I disagree,” said Hoppy, “Passion is what drives people forwards, helping them overcome the troubles of life! Passion is what makes people achieve, rising towards triumph!” she said with another loud hiccup. The American across the table applauded, triggering a cacophony of applause from the other American witches and wizards with him.

“I’m sorry,” I said to him, “My name is Lucinda Baker, this is Andrew Grey, and Hoppy. Joshua Grey you already appear to know.”

“My name is Oswald Crow, Miss Baker. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. And of course, I’m only familiar with the Professor Doctor from his work. Well, my staff are familiar with his work. It’s all a little over my head,” Crow said with a dismissive hand-wave.

“I must confess, the specific runic workings are also beyond me,” said the Brazilian wizard.

“I think they’re beyond most people,” I said.

“Oh, you guys,” said Josh, smiling at the flattery, “It was all based on previous work. I didn’t do anything new, by any means.”

“What about your book?” said Oswald, “Didn’t you have a book out recently? About making a clockwork man or some such thing?”

As he spoke, the next course appeared on our table. It was two large gold trays, one either side of the centrepiece, containing another fish dish. Plates appeared in front of every diner – in Hoppy’s case, it appeared on top of the spoon she had slammed down, which made her tut loudly. I was distracted by the large fish in front of me. It was a whole catfish, with the head and tail at either end of its sliced body. On the other side of the table, the Americans were rubbing their hands together gleefully and forking catfish steaks onto their plates. Smaller silver bowls of cold salad had also appeared with jugs of various salad dressing flavours, jostling for space on the table amongst the bread and the condiments. The Brazilians were all looking fairly disturbed by the presence of the strange alien-esque faces of the fish that, by chance, were both facing towards them. Josh served us all some of the tiny catfish steaks while I watched the Brazilians picking at the vegetables and salad, hesitantly trying the white meat. I smiled as they smiled, apparently enjoying the flavour.

“Yeah, there was a book published in my name,” said Josh, swallowing a large mouthful, “But I didn’t really write it. That was the initial conception, of course, but it’s far from the truth. The publishers just got carried away, is all.”

“Ah yes, the book was re-issued recently, wasn’t it,” said Crow, “With the main author being listed as some goblin. His name was Nornuk, I think?”

“Yeah.”

“And then I heard he disappeared. What happened to him? Do you know?”

“I have no idea,” said Josh sadly, “I wish he had stuck around, I’d have loved to work with him more.”

“I suppose he just took the money and ran,” I said, trying some of the catfish, “Good grief, this is tasty! Hoppy, what do you think?”

“It’s quite nice,” said the elf, “It’s been cooked to just the right level, considering the nature of the meat. The choice of salad dressings is questionable, though. As is the decision to serve us the heads and tails, as well,” she said, reaching over and poking the rubbery, fish-lipped, face of one of the fish. The tentacles of its face jiggled, and Hoppy poked it again to make sure it was genuinely dead. “See that? People don’t want to see the face of the thing they’re eating,” she complained.

“I quite like it,” Josh said.

“Well, you’re a philistine,” she replied.

“I kind of like it too. It makes it more personal, you know?” said Crow, nudging Andrew, “Turn that plate around for me, would you?”

Andrew shot him a dirty look over his glasses, then proceeded to lift up the silver platter awkwardly and rotate it a full half-circle, placing it back on the table so that Crow could look into the eyes of the things he was eating. He seemed to derive a lot of pleasure from looking at it as he ate the rest of his steak.

“So, what do you do, Mr Crow?” Josh asked, “Are you with the Salem Institute?”

“Me? Good lord no,” he said, swallowing, “I’m attached to the CIA.”

“Wait, so the U.S. government has a much closer relationships with the wizards?” Josh asked.

“Much closer. But that’s all I can tell you without having to kill you,” Crow said. Josh laughed, but for once the smile in Crow’s eyes had faded and I wondered exactly how dangerous this man was.

“The Brazilian government is usually too corrupt and unstable to trust with knowledge of wizards,” said the man next to Hoppy.

“And the British government is far too naïve,” Josh agreed.

“We’ve got a pretty good president at the moment. So I figure I could take a week off, come and see Europe, you know?” said Crow.

“I thought America had a policy of eternal vigilance?” asked Andrew.

“Well, yes,” said Crow, looking at the man next to him with disdain, taking in the thin moustache, flat hair and hunched posture.

“It seems like you guys haven’t been paying attention in the past ten or fifteen years,” Andrew continued.

“Andrew!” Josh snapped, “Be polite. Good grief, do you have no sense of diplomacy? You’re supposed to be a diplomat!”

“I specialise in trade agreements and economic policy, not hand-holding and molly-coddling. Not that you would know, obviously,” Andrew replied, his tone cold and even as ever.

“No, it’s okay,” said Crow, holding up one hand as he took a gulp of wine with the other. I could see the smile returning to his eyes, but he looked as disturbed by the brother’s arguing as I was. “Things like the World Trade Centre were before my time. There were significant failures in both the muggle and wizard security institutions. A lot has changed since those dark days.”

“The whole idea of wizards cooperating with any muggle government is profoundly disturbing,” said Andrew.

“Our Department of Magic strikes a very delicate balance,” Crow said.

“In Brazil, we maintain a strict policy of non-interference,” the Brazilian wizard said.

“I can understand that, with all the troubles your various governments have had,” Crow said with a sympathetic shrug. They started talking about politics, so I lost interest. I finished my catfish steak quickly, aware that our plates would soon be vanished from us. A wood-nymph dived towards our table slowly and everyone paused their various conversations quickly, looking up appreciatively at the beautiful singing lady that swirled around us. Sure enough, the plates vanished along with the golden platters of fish. We had at least made a good effort at devouring most of the two fish, but I still wondered where the leftovers would end up. While I was at Hogwarts, decades ago, they used to give the leftovers to the elves. I was sure that Hoppy would never stand for that, though.

The fish was replaced with several small, shallow golden dishes piled high with caviar, with the associated trimmings like blinis and small sweet wafers. There was also a small golden plate piled high with exotic Mediterranean fruits. The waitresses were offering more wine, which both Josh and I accepted readily. Our waitress happily remembered that we preferred large glasses. She offered wine once more to Andrew, who refused silently.

At the head table, Madame Maxime was standing and walking over to the podium in one corner of the room. With our glasses being refreshed and the light nature of the food, I assumed we were in for a speech. Sure enough, Madame Maxime made a motion and a gong sounded while the nymphs fell silent, their haunting melodies fading away.

“Madames et monsieurs, we have now reached the point of the night where we treat you two a brief historical lecture as you enjoy your fine wine and caviar course,” she said, her voice magically amplified. She hardly needed it, nor the podium.

“Oh good grief,” I sighed. Next to me, Josh laughed, nearly spitting wine over the table as Maxime began her long speech, telling us about the centuries-old legacy of the school.

“This is interesting,” Hoppy scolded me in a whisper.

“The historical significance of centuries of French politics has a large impact on this school,” added Andrew in hushed tones.

“Yeah, okay,” said Josh impatiently, digging into the caviar, “Shush so we can listen, then.”

Andrew sighed as I turned my head away from him to look at Josh, evaluating his state of mind. Sure enough, he was looking slightly bleary and drunk, and despite a forced smile I could see the stress in his eye. His cheeks were red beneath his beard, despite his clear, crisp speech. He and Hoppy were my only real friends here, and the lurking shadow I had seen in the tree was still weighing on my mind. I already had a few ideas about how someone might break into the palace. As Maxime continued her lecture, I leaned over and whispered to Josh.

“I have a question for you,” I said.

“What is it?”

“If you were going to break into this palace, how would you do it?” I asked him.

Hoppy and Andrew both frowned at us, shushing us quietly. The Brazilian wizards glanced at our whole party disapprovingly, while the Americans had been forced to turn completely around in their chairs to look at Maxime – not that she was providing anything visually interesting. At the side of the room I could see the waitresses standing to attention with rigidly straight backs, listening to their headmistresses with devoted attention. Even the statues were listening, their faces even more blank and expressionless than usual.

“That’s a good question. I assume they’ve got the usual levels of protection? It’s unplottable, protected from apparating and random flyovers? Curse shields and whatnot?”

“Yeah. They’ve also got guards on the wall that apparently surrounds the grounds.”

“I’d probably use one of the secret passages, then,” Josh said.

“That’s what I thought. Apparently they don’t have any,” I said.

“What? How can they not have any?!” Josh exclaimed, his voice cracking as the surprise conflicted with his whispering. Hoppy shushed us again.

“What do you think, then?” I asked.

“Hold on,” Josh said as he leant over and whispered the same question to Hoppy. They spoke briefly, nearly silently, and I was sure that Hoppy was going over the same questions that Josh had asked. Eventually they finished, and Hoppy returned to her caviar. She may have been genuinely enjoying her food for once, without any hint of criticism, but I suspected she was loyally waiting for the speech to finish.

“She says there’s no way anyone could get into this castle without being invited,” Josh whispered, “I mean, I can think of several, but that’s only because I’m apparently a genius.”

“I’ll be right back. This speech is boring, and I need to visit the bathroom,” I said to him, pushing my chair back and standing up. I attracted a lot of attention, but I made my way to the side of the room and travelled to the back, where a lot of wizards were standing at attention. They wore the uniforms of the Beauxbatons attendants but from their posture and faces I could tell they were with the security team.

I paused, to look over the massive room of people all gorging themselves on wine and caviar. I could see several people in the crowd that might wish me harm – the head of the Ministry’s Muggle Affairs department, two prominent businessmen, a noted aristocratic witch and several other scholars, from Britain and abroad, all of whom I had caused trouble in some way. None of them really seemed the type to issue a bounty on my head, broadcast through the whole underworld and criminal network, and their grudges against me hardly justified the high price. Whoever had put the price on my head wasn’t here this evening. I waited at the side of the room, clearing my head, listening to this portion of Maxime’s speech. I was reluctant to wander off on my own to seek out the toilets, especially when there was a chance I could get lost.

I was also casually spotting people who might be prepared to collect the bounty. But of the many dangerous, desperate wizards I knew, few were present tonight. Those that were here this evening were either wealthy enough for them not to bother, or close enough friends that I trusted them. If I was going to be attacked, it would be from a stranger, and there were over a thousand of them in this room. I was looking for people that were in turn looking at me, but if anyone had been watching me previously, they were now pretending not to. The shadow in the trees was still looming in my mind, and I was sure that if someone had managed to sneak into the palace, they would still be hiding in the shadows and not dining in this sumptuous room. I returned to the table, squeezing between chairs and tables, and sat down just in time to hear Andrew shushing Josh as he sighed with boredom. I saw genuine anger flash in Josh’s eye before he finished his glass and motioned wildly for a waitress to refill his glass.

When the speech finally finished, the caviar bowls vanished and sure enough, Hoppy started complaining instantly about how the fish-eggs had been served at a too-low temperature.

“Does that really make a difference to the flavour?” asked Josh, enjoying the ability to talk aloud once more while the crowd applauded wildly, having apparently enjoyed hearing a condensed version of four hundred years of political history.

“It makes a difference to the texture,” sniffed Hoppy.

The centrepiece vanished, being replaced with a golden several-tiered tray with flowers arranged in a funnel at the top. It held several types of small bite-size foods, including cooked snails and frogs legs. I took several of each onto my plate, as did everyone else, eager to replace the salty flavour of the caviar, and we gently nibbled at them as the conversation restarted. Crow the American and the Brazilian wizard were still talking about the political situation of the entire continent of America, which allowed Josh and I to talk more intimately.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing, it’s probably fine,” I said.

“Don’t make me slip you a truth potion,” he grinned, remembering our experiences with that dangerous substance, “I can see it in your face. And you didn’t go to the toilet just now, you lingered at the back of the room, glaring at everyone. Do you think someone here might try to collect on your bounty? Even here?” he asked.

“I really hope not. I’m supposed to be on holiday, right?” I said, which made Josh laugh.

“Master, have you tried these garlic snails?” Hoppy asked, “They’re really very delicious. The rest is average at best, but these escargot are genuinely delicious.”

“Yes, thank you, Hoppy,” he said, swallowing one whole in a hurry. He seemed about to say something, but his eyebrows raised and his eye darted down to the remaining snails, “Security is tight here. I was going to say, unless they had my apparition-override circle runes, or some sort of super-powered flight spell, there’s no way they could get in here.”

“I can think of several ways,” I said.

“Have you tried these crab-sticks, Miss Baker?” Hoppy said, interrupting me just when I was about to discuss my suspicions with Josh.

“Yes, thank you, Hoppy,” I said, echoing Josh. I was suddenly aware of some disagreement going on between the two wizards, Crow and the Brazilian, that was becoming heated. It sounded like Crow was defending the CIA’s involvement in South American politics, but the Brazilian was suggesting that in the future, his government would also adopt a more involved policy in response to the USA’s breaching of the Statute of Secrecy. As everyone at our table listened to their noisome debate, the snails, crabsticks and other little treats all vanished, along with the tiered centrepiece on which they all lay.

“Oh for crying out loud!” snapped Hoppy, “I was really enjoying those! Why would they take them away? I am going to discuss this,” she said, waving at our waitress.

In their place, a massive golden platter appeared, dominating the centre of the table. It held a gigantic shellfish that looked like a lobster except it was bright blue – almost disgustingly so. But the smell of it, and every giant blue lobster on the other tables, filled the whole room with a layer of aroma so delightful and delicious that I nearly forgot everything else I was thinking about. It was on a bed of rich green leaves and surrounded by sliced lemons. As it appeared on our table, the shell split apart readily with the slight shock, spilling out steamed lobster meat. Where normal lobster meat would be red, or pink, this was still blue.

“What the devil?!” demanded the Brazilian wizard next to Hoppy.

“It’s a special breed of shellfish, bred and farmed especially by Beauxbatons,” she told him, “They have an entire lobster-farm devoted to this specialised breed of blue lobster, purely because it matches the colours of school.”

“Well, it  _ tries _ to match the colours of the school,” Josh joked loudly, and everyone who spoke English at the table laughed with the exception of Andrew.

“But it tastes so delicious. The colour is incidental,” Hoppy said, picking up Josh’s plate and dishing some of the lobster meat onto it awkwardly. The other diners were all pulling out thick rubbery lumps of the meat as well, and some even sprayed lemon juice onto it. The Brazilians were looking at everything with a great deal of suspicion now, especially now that they were staring at another face of something they were eating.

“Oh wow, this is genuinely delicious,” Josh said, forking mouthful after mouthful of lobster meat into his wide mouth happily.

“It’s been better in past years,” Hoppy said, “If this is the recent harvest, then clearly there has been some sort of pollutant in the lobster fields. I’ve had better.”

“Good grief, Hoppy,” Josh said, “You seem to think this place is the best place in the world for fine dining. Your critique has been so professional, so… critical! Why did you ever leave this place? You could have been in charge if you had only stayed here!”

“You really want to know why I came to work for you,” said Hoppy quietly, “For a start, it was clear that someone had to look after you,” she said, “I was happy to work for you. And, I suppose I may as well confess this now,” she said reluctantly, “I may not have told you this before, but your brother purchased me and sent me to you as a gift.”


	4. Chapter 4

Silence descended in our small group, and I could tell from the tension that Josh had not been aware of Andrew’s involvement in Hoppy’s employment. Josh was staring down at his lobster meat, Andrew was staring at Hoppy angrily, while Hoppy and I were staring at Josh worriedly.

“I thought... I thought I bought you from a wizard? And then freed you?” he asked quietly.

“Well, you didn’t buy me. But you did free me,” Hoppy said.

“So, you were given to me?” Josh said, “By  _ him _ ? You thought that a slave would be a nice gift?” Josh said, his eye now aflame with anger.

“Now, master, just hold on. I came to you and you offered to employ me,” she said.

“Yeah, you just showed up on my doorstep. And you had a gift basket,” Josh said, “And it was full of delicious breakfast breads! I was hungry! Of course I was interested! I thought you worked for some other idiot who had sent you specifically to deliver a gift basket! I asked if you had baked those things, and when you said yes, I sent you with money and a letter, then you came back and said you were mine!”

“Is that it?” Hoppy demanded, “All of my culinary skills, and you only hired me because you were peckish and, as you’ve phrased it before, bleary enough from sleep to make irresponsible decisions?”

“I’ve never regretted it!” said Josh, “And now it turns out you didn’t even need to work for me, you were already  _ mine _ !”

“I thought we were on even ground!” she snapped, stabbing her fork down into her lobster meat so hard that it scraped against the ceramic of the plate.

“I thought we were too! Now I hear you were sent to me, like some sort of care package, from this little bastard!” he snapped, gesturing with his fork to his brother next to me. I looked at him, and the man’s face was bright red. His glasses were practically steamed up with the heat of embarrassment. I was suddenly aware that the rest of the people at the table were also all listening, either staring at Josh, Hoppy and Andrew or watching from the corner of their eyes.

“Listen, Hoppy,” I said, “Why don’t you and I go and find out about dessert, eh? Or we can ask about the vintage of the wine,” I insisted, a reasonable amount of desperation creeping into my voice.

“No, I think we should stay here. This is an important moment,” Hoppy said to me, across Josh’s face who glanced at both of us angrily – it meant turning his face so that his single eye stared at either of us, while Andrew poked at his blue lobster meat.

“So, you sent me a spy?” said Josh to his brother.

“I thought you would need someone to care for you,” he said.

“So you sent me a slave?” Josh countered.

“I purchased her from this very school when I first became ambassador for the Ministry to this country. It was one of the first things I did. I recognised that you needed someone to care for you, and she seemed the best candidate.”

“So you purchased a slave,” Josh said angrily, “Hoppy, how did you feel about this?”

“You don’t seem to understand what happens to us, as elves,” Hoppy snapped, “In those days, we were bought and sold. Even now we are treated as property. When I was bought by him,” she said, motioning to Andrew, “I expected I would end up in a household like any other, pandering to the whims of a family full of children. I had heard stories about the British families – but to be fair, they were less cruel than those in the north, in Russia and such places, and that I was lucky not to be sent to the hell that is Durmstrang,” she continued.

“So, you’re definitely saying you had no choice in the matter?” Josh said quietly.

“I was very pleased when you brought me into your home, enjoyed my baking and then offered to employ me. Do you remember what happened that morning? You offered to clothe me, and pay me, at the same time. I’ve already told you the kinds of places that elves get sent to. I’d have been a fool not to accept. And master, if I’ve never said it before, I’m so immensely pleased that we’ve found each other. From all the stories I’ve heard, you’re one of the kindest wizards that any elf has worked for, and I think in the past decade, you have really needed me. It has been a very great pleasure to be your elf.”

There was a silence that followed Hoppy’s speech. It felt like it was the kind of thing that should have cleared the air between the two of them, following the revelation that she had been sent to him. But Josh’s face was still bright red, and his single eye was darting between Andrew and Hoppy strangely.

“Hoppy, I’m also quite glad that you found me,” he said, “But as much as I’ve enjoyed your company, counted on you during my low points and even more during my recent success, it’s all changed now. It’s like, there was this massive lie between us that you never told me about. Were you reporting to him the whole time?” he asked.

“No, master!” said Hoppy, genuinely upset, “Not since you freed me! And you did that in the first instance that you met me!”

“I see,” said Josh, a strange grin growing on his face.

He finished his large glass of wine and then turned to face his brother, his eye burrowing into Andrew’s shrinking posture. I felt that I was in the crossfire between two opposing armies made of willpowers, but one was the willpower of one of my closest friends and an internationally infamous wizard, while the other was the willpower of an esoteric accountant.

“Josh,” I said, placing my hand on his to try and sooth his mood.

“So you did send me a slave? Whether she was intended to be a spy or not, you thought that it would be okay to just purchase a person, bring them out of their successful career in the home they had made for themselves, and send them off to a foreign land?!”

“I was trying to do what I thought was best!” Andrew replied.

“We have plenty of time to discuss this later,” I said to him, tightening my grip on his hand.

“This is the best time to discuss this. I may never get another chance, considering he never reads any of his letters!” Josh said, probably talking to me but certainly looking at his brother.

“But maybe we should keep it private,” I said, “You might regret this in the morning.”

“He’s regretted other things in the morning,” said Andrew pointedly, glaring sidelong at me. I felt my hand clench around Josh’s in an involuntary spasm of anger. Josh glanced down at me, feeling his knuckles grind together.

“You say you were trying to do what was best, but you know what, that’s not what you were doing,” Josh said, “You’ve always been so wrapped up with status and pride. What you were trying to do was  _ show off _ . You thought it would be massively impressive to buy a house-elf on a whim and send her to your brother as a gift. Well, it’s a good thing it worked out so well. I don’t know what I’d have done without her in my life! But then I got sent to Azkaban and you suddenly thought it was all a massive mistake! Well, look where you are now, captain high and mighty!” Josh was shouting.

“Azkaban?” asked Crow.

“It’s a prison for wizards. It used to be staffed by dementors,” I told him in a hushed tone while Andrew stared at his brother angrily. People at other tables were also turning to look at us, as the shouting grew louder.

“You’ve done nothing except rock the boat!” snapped Andrew.

“I’ve got international fame! I’ve brought magic forwards! And you can’t get over one little mistake that landed me in jail!” Josh shouted, “You should be proud of me! You  _ used  _ to be!!”

“I was  _ never _ proud of you!” Andrew shouted back, “I only tolerated your nonsense because I thought you were smart! Then I realised you were just lucky!”

“Lucky!? How was I lucky?!”

“Because you always had more magic than me!”

“Oh Andy, you know that’s not how it works,” Josh said, suddenly sad and quiet. In front of us, the blue lobster vanished from the table, along with our plates. But even Hoppy barely noticed it disappearing. Everyone at our table was aware that the rest of the room was now looking over, curious and scandalised expressions on their faces. As I sat there, between them, I felt my face blushing – one of the few times in my life I have ever experienced it. 

“So, Azkaban was a pretty bleak place?” Crow asked me, and I nodded silently, my face growing red and my eyes widening as the brothers continued to argue.

“I suppose that not all of us are just prepared to do what it takes,” said Andrew, in a quieter tone.

“What do you mean?” Josh said softly.

“I just mean, not all of us are prepared to risk the lives of people. Not all of us are prepared to sacrifice living creatures,” Andrew said, his voice rising, “Very few people are prepared to plead guilty to manslaughter but innocent to murder.”

“That was actually, genuinely the case,” Josh said, “It’s been proven, time and again. I built the machine, but it was the man himself that misused it! The only thing I was guilty of was constructing the thing, I didn’t know he’d try to travel back in time quite so far. Do you think I don’t feel guilty? Do you think I didn’t see his family’s faces every second of every minute of every hour, while I was in that damn place?  _ Why didn’t you come to see me?! _ ” Josh screamed, “ _ I needed you! _ I was in there for seventeen thousand and four hundred hours! Plus some spare change!”

“Hoppy, why don’t we go and see about dessert,” I said, trying to lean across Josh. But he was standing up now, thumping his first on the table.

“After everything we’ve been through, you couldn’t lower yourself?” he demanded of his brother.

“Pride is important,” Andrew muttered.

“It’s all you have now. It’s not like you have any fucking family,” Josh shouted.

I was massively aware of the entire room turning towards us – even the statues were paying attention from their places in the room, and the wood nymph’s singing was doing nothing to cover Josh’s yelling.

“I lost my family when I lost you to Azkaban,” Andrew said, his voice cracking and his face growing red.

“You didn’t lose me, you gave me up,” Josh said.

“No, you lost yourself!” Andrew said, standing suddenly as he started to shout back, “You say I was showing off? You were the one so obsessed with your own genius! You might as well have just signed up with the damn Death Eaters!” said Andrew.

“What are you saying?” Josh demanded.

“You made stuff for aurors and dark wizards alike, without even caring! The whole occupation was fuelled by mercenaries like you! You might as well have spent your time looking for fucking Volde-…” Andrew roared, but his voice faltered as he was about to say the name.

Almost every British wizard still believes in that old superstition surrounding Voldemort’s name. It takes a lot for any of us to even come close to accidentally naming the darkest of our dark wizards, but Andrew had just approached it. Josh’s face had drained of all colour, his red cheeks becoming pale and his lone pupil shrinking into his iris as he stared at his brother, appalled at what he was hearing. He seized his wine glass and stormed off, squeezing between the tables, determined to escape from this situation. As he moved away, the conversation started up again around the room, low murmurs circulating amongst the air. With the wood nymph’s help, still singing in the high ceilings, a slightly more peaceful atmosphere was restored. But Hoppy and I were still conscious of the empty chair between us and our entire table was wary of Andrew, who was now poking his lobster with a fork.

“He’s right you know,” I said gently.

“Madam Baker,” Hoppy warned me, but I ignored her.

“You’ve never approved of him. And he really did need you while he was in prison. I know you’re ashamed of him, but he doesn’t care. He only wants to be your friend.”

“He’s toxic. So are you. You’re practically made for each other,” Andrew muttered.

“He’s got a heart of gold, and with some support from his friends and family, he’ll be just fine,” I said through gritted teeth.

“He’s already achieved a lot,” added Hoppy, “Becoming a professor and a doctor doesn’t happen to everyone, after all.”

“You never did tell me anything he was up to,” Andrew said to her.

“Good grief, you really are a dick, aren’t you?” I said, finally having had enough, “Maybe if you were more human, you wouldn’t have spent the past twenty years tweaking international treaties! As far as I’m concerned, he’s a fool for still wanting to talk to you! I’m going after him. Stay here, Hoppy, and do your best to save us both a bit of whatever else they serve, okay? There’s no reason we shouldn’t enjoy our evening just because of this little fucking twat.”

I stood up before anyone could say anything else, but as I walked away I heard Crow, the American, try to diffuse the tension.

“Wow, and I was worried talking about  _ politics _ would kill the atmosphere, eh?”

I felt bad about leaving Hoppy to sit with the Americans, Brazilians and the horrible Andrew, but I worried about poor Josh wondering around drunk and upset. He’d surely end up in some sort of terrible trouble. I asked one of the attendants where he’d gone, and followed. I had to keep asking statues, portraits and the occasional wondering guest whether they’d seen him, but at least the long hallways were brightly lit. As I climbed a long spiral staircase, that same part started to wonder where exactly Josh had gone. The rest of my mind was swimming with anger about Andrew, concern about Josh and a strong desire to go back to the delicious food and fine wine. I pushed through a pair of heavy doors and found myself on a rooftop walkway. I was several stories above the front courtyard, which I could see from where I stood. I could also see an inner courtyard, an ornate clock with stylised roman numerals in gold that shone in the light of the windows. As I carried on walking along the walkway, drinking in the warm evening air and clearing my head, I looked up at all the shining towers and flapping banners high the dark sky. I looked out over the extensive palace grounds at the lush green forests populated with thousands of tiny darting lights. The walls were lost, so far away in the darkness that I couldn’t see them. As I looked out into the trees I started to feel very exposed, and hurried across the walkway looking for Josh. I tutted as I realised I had left my purse at the table with my second wand – these days I rarely feel safe without having a spare.

I was close to the next doorway when I heard a noise on the walls above me. I looked up, and there was a figure dressed in black hanging from a windowsill above me. It had long, gangly arms and short legs, making it look like some sort of ape. It pushed off from the wall, leaping over my head and landing behind me. I was already whipping out my wand as he landed. He was wearing a black face mask with tinted ski goggles, and on his belt there were a series of daggers. He was wearing strange black combat boots with long feet. Before I could fire a spell, his long arm swung out from his body and knocked me down, knocking the breath from me. As I landed on the floor, gasping, he snatched the wand from my hand and hurled it over the wall of the walkway.

I was trying to call out for help, despite my pride, but I couldn’t catch my breath. He was pulling out a long knife and bending down over me. He tore the hat from my head and grabbed my hair while I tried to beat at his arm, but through the blur of shock and alcohol I remembered the dagger I’d put in a holster around my thigh. As he held my head back and made ready to drag his knife across my throat, I tried to hold back his arm with one hand while I whipped up my dress and pulled out my own dagger, stabbing upwards with it. He moved just in time, and the knife only scraped against his chest, slicing at his armpit. He leapt away, and I stood up uncertainly, slipping out of my heels and prepared to fight to the death.

“Who sent you?” I demanded of him.

“Me smash Baker!” the black-clad man hissed, and I finally realised I was fighting a ghoul – the voice, the strange body, and his blood on my dagger smelt of awful ghoul fluids.

“You’ll tell me sooner or later,” I said.

“No,” said the ghoul, and he lunged at me. I darted to the side and span just in time to stab at where he had been, but his short legs were deceptively strong and he had carried on moving after his lunge, springing to the doorway.

“Who sent you?!” I demanded again, “Who put this bounty on me?” But the ghoul was ignoring me, and he leapt towards me again, swinging his arm at me again and then jabbing forwards with the knife. I dived backwards and to the left. “I’ll pay you double if you let me live, and tell me who it is,” I offered as I kept dodging his wild swings.

“Baker cut me,” he hissed, his horrible voice muffled by the balaclava, “Die now!”

“Great, a psychopathic ghoul,” I said. A movement down in the inner courtyard caught my eye. One of the attendants was walking across it, carrying two bottles of champagne. “Help!” I screamed down at her, “I’m being attacked!”

She paused and looked around her, finally looking up at where I was. Putting both bottles in one hand, she cupped her hand around her mouth and shouted up at me.

“Que?”

“I’m being attacked! Get help!” I shouted, but I was too late jumping out of the way of another swipe from the ghoul and got thrown down again, the knife being knocked from my hand and skidding away across the flagstones. The ghoul didn’t waste time, and tried to stomp his foot down on my neck – I rolled out of the way, seizing the knife and slashing at his leg. I was rewarded with catching a good deal of his flesh, and he pulled his leg away with some difficulty, but the dagger went with it, wrenched from my grasp. He tugged it out of his leg with a grunt of pain while I struggled to my feet again, but now I was weaponless. The ghoul took a few steps back and launched into a flying kick, which I side-stepped, but he had apparently planned on this and I was caught by his outstretched arm, knocked to the floor again. The ghoul landed behind me, then turned to loom over me, a blade in each hand, and was about to plunge them both into my chest.

“Hey dickhead!” someone shouted, and spells went zooming past the ghoul, out over the wall of the walkway. The ghoul was forced to duck, and clumsily roll away. From where I was lying, I couldn’t see who had fired the spells, but suddenly someone was flying in the sky above us. Josh had his arm outstretched, pointing his wand at himself as he levitated down onto the walkway. He landed gracefully, between me and the ghoul. “Are you okay?” he asked me.

“Don’t let him get up!” I said, and Josh span around just in time to dodge the dagger thrown by the ghoul, and it clattered against the flagstones some distance away.

“You… not Baker?” the ghoul said, confused.

Josh shot a couple of spells at the ghoul as he closed the distance, but the ghoul leapt to his feet with such ferocity that he turned it into a flying kick. He caught Josh square in the chest, sending him to the floor. Josh responded from the floor, summoning ropes and sending them flying at the ghoul. They wrapped around his torso, pinning one of his arms to his side, but his other was free. Josh shot again, but the ghoul avoided it and leapt into the air, about to bring his body down on Josh’s. But he had rolled out of the way, arriving next to me as the ghoul landed heavily on the flagstones. He shot another spell, and the ghoul was petrified suddenly. He rocked back and forth like a toppled statue.

“You shouldn’t have used a curse,” I said.

“Nice to see you too,” he grinned, and helped me to my feet even though I didn’t need it.

“The guards will be here any moment. What do I tell them?” I said, putting my shoes back on.

“That you were attacked by this guy,” Josh shrugged, kicking the creature in the back, then leaning down to pull the ski mask and balaclava off him. He revealed the ghoul’s green skin, yellow eyes and ragged, monstrous teeth. He was staring up at Josh hatefully. “Who is he? How did he get in here?” Josh asked.

“My guess is that he just hovered on a broomstick at the edge of the flight-forbiddance zone and parachuted down into the palace grounds. I thought I might have seen him lurking in the trees while we were in the garden,” I said, my breathing returning to normal as Josh picked up his top hat, patting it gently, checking for dents and brushing away the dust.

The doors at the far end of the walkway burst open and guards hurried out, pointing wands at around, covering every angle, while their colleagues ran towards us. Amongst them I could see several of the security personnel I knew, including Crow and Jones. As they neared us, they slowed to a gentle jog before finally striding up to us, looking from Josh to the ghoul to me.

“What the devil happened here?” Crow said.

“What does it look like?” Josh snapped, “This ghoul attacked us.”

“Where did the ghoul come from?” Jones asked while he plucked the dagger from the ghoul’s petrified hand. Crow translated what we were saying into French for their benefit, motioning for them to lower their wands.

“It came from the roofs,” I said.

“What? What was a ghoul doing on the roof?” Jones demanded.

“There might be more of them,” Crow said, and started talking in French with the other security leaders about breaking the overstaffed security force into teams to search every room, nook and cranny of the palace, all the way down to the basements.

“Get up on broomsticks,” snapped Jones, “Check all the roofs and treetops!”

“Yes,” agreed Crow, translating the instructions into French. The discussion went on for quite some time – I assumed jurisdictions were debated, and Crow’s authority to issue orders was questioned. 

The security men all split up into two groups, one heading back the way they’d come and the other group heading the other direction along the walkway. For a second it was very crowded while Crow kept the ghoul covered with his wand. Jones also remained.

“Well, I suppose we should find out what this thing knows, eh?” he said.

“We should do that somewhere controlled. Somewhere secure,” Crow said.

“He might know if there are other ghouls. There’s a question of immediate risk, and this creature can resolve it,” Jones said, summoning ropes and tying them tightly around the petrified form lying on the ground.

“We’re exposed,” said Crow.

“That looks secure, right?” Jones said, summoning more ropes and tying them tighter, then starting to disenchant the petrification spell on the ghoul.

“This is a bad idea,” continued Crow.

“Let me go!” hissed the ghoul as he regained his ability to move, “Let me go! Kill Baker!”

“How many more of you are there?” Jones demanded, poking his wand into the ghoul’s neck – it was as wide as his head.

“Of me? One! Only one me! Me kill Baker!”

“Do you have any friends?” I asked him.

“One friend! Kill Baker!” the ghoul said.

“Where is he?” Crow demanded quickly.

“He is here,” said the ghoul, looking up at Crow with puzzlement.


	5. Chapter 5

Jones and Josh whirled around, pointing their wands into the sky and along the walkways. Jones glanced over his shoulder at me, then down at the ghoul, and then at Crow. He ceased scanning the surroundings for anything suspicious and turned back to the ghoul, kneeling next to the bound creature.

“How did you get here?” he demanded.

“Thrown from sky,” hissed the ghoul, “Magic blanket slow me down.”

“Magic blanket?” Jones said.

“I reckon he means a parachute,” I said as the ghoul shrugged.

“Why kill Baker?”

“Friend said to! Friend showed me Baker! Can live in top room and have bugs forever!” the ghoul said joyously, “Kill Baker!”

“How long ago?” Jones continued.

“Before sun died,” the ghoul said uncertainly.

“Hey, shouldn’t there be broomsticks overhead by now?” Josh asked.

I was beginning to get a very dark suspicion, and I realised I hadn’t yet asked the ghoul the most important question.

“A ghoul is far too stupid to figure this out on its own,” I said, “Someone sent him here. Someone trained him to want to kill me, I suppose. Then they armed him and pushed him off a broomstick into prevailing wind to land in the palace grounds. Ghouls are naturally secretive, they prefer hiding in dark places, preferably up high. Whoever sent him couldn’t have known I’d come up here after Josh. I suppose the plan was to let it wait for night and sneak into my room,” I mused. 

“Who sent you here?” I asked the creature, slowly moving so that I was very nearly back-to-back with Josh.

“What?” the ghoul growled, “Me kill you!”

“Who sent you here?” Jones demanded.

“Him,” said the ghoul simply.

“Who?” Jones asked again.

“Him,” the ghoul repeated, and I finally noticed that the creature was looking up with his yellow, beady eyes at Crow. The American saw me make eye contact with the ghoul, made eye contact with me, and before I could do anything he had kicked Jones in the back, sending him flying down into the ghoul. He shot ropes at him, binding him to the ghoul awkwardly. Then he kicked Jones’s wand-hand and knocked his wand away across the walkway. It looked like he had broken one of Jones’s fingers in the process. The ghoul was trying to wriggle around to bite him, snapping his sharp teeth at Jones furiously, but he was bound to the ghoul at a strange enough angle to be completely out of reach. They ended up wriggling bizarrely across the walkway while Crow turned to face me triumphantly.

“What the fuck?” said Josh, spinning around, firing a spell at Crow, who ducked. He rolled to the side, firing spells at Josh and I while Josh cast a shield charm. I was behind Josh now, seizing the dagger that had been thrown by the ghoul. As I picked it up, I tried to peer past the energies dancing across Josh’s shield charm to find the other dagger.

It was in Jones’s hand. Between the spells and the flickering shield charm, I could see the ghoul and Jones writhing around on the floor behind Crow.

“You got greedy, Crow!” I bellowed, “You should have sent a wizard!”

“There would have been questions,” Crow snapped, his rain of spells continuing.

“Fire a curse, get the guards back up here!” I said to Josh.

“I can’t drop the shield, there’s no telling what he’ll do with those weird American spells before I fire a curse! He works for the damn CIA!”

“Hey Oswald!” I shouted, “The CIA don’t pay you enough?” Beyond all the magic, and getting further away from Crow, I could still see Jones and the ghoul writhing around. It looked like Jones had managed to start sawing at the rope that bound him with the dagger still in his hand.

“You seriously think you can piss me off?” demanded Crow, “You think you can make me make some sort of mistake? That’s so damn stupid I could laugh. Why is it so hard to kill you?!”

“Just tell me who put the bounty on my head! I’m not trying to piss you off!” I said.

“If I tell you, they’ll just kill me too!”

“I was only trying to distract you,” I said triumphantly as Jones rose up from the ground, having freed himself from the ropes and regained his wand. But before Jones could shoot a spell, the ghoul stood up too, having also struggled free of his ropes. Crow was distracted enough that Josh could shoot a curse finally, but it flew wild, bouncing from the far doorframe and rebounding into the sky to explode high above us.

“Excellent,” Josh muttered, watching the curse explode high above us as he started to involve himself in the fray – Crow was in a full magical duel with Jones while the ghoul was rushing back towards me, doing his best to dodge the spells flying between the Englishman and the American. Josh fired spells at Crow and the ghoul, then seized me by the shoulder and pulled me back as he stepped forward, standing between the monster and me. He kept firing spells as the ghoul approached, finally catching the agile creature in the leg with a spell. Sparks of magic scattered across the flagstone, and the ghoul stumbled, knocking into Jones. Crow took advantage of the chaos and shot several curses at Jones, but Josh had leapt forwards with a shield charm at the ready. The ghoul was behind him now, but Jones had the creature in an arm-lock, struggling on the floor. The ghoul managed to find a purchase on the ground and pushed upwards suddenly, sending Jones arcing up from the flagstones and into the wall at the side of the walkway, smacking his skull noisily. As the ghoul struggled free from the arm-lock, Jones’s body fell limp. Now the ghoul was staring at me again, panting heavily with exertion.

“Where the fuck are the guards?” Josh was shouting as the ghoul came towards me.

“Jones is down!” I shouted back as I turned to run down the walkway from the approaching creature, trying to get clear of the raging magical duel before I turned to face him.

“Lucinda!” said Josh, and I whirled around just in time to dodge the ghoul, who was much faster than he looked.

“Me kill Baker!” it roared, sailing past me. I tried to trip him, but I wasn’t fast enough, and instead I started sprinting back the way I had come while the ghoul looked around him stupidly.

“Catch!” said Josh, throwing me Jones’s wand while he let his shield drop briefly, dodging a spray of spells fired at his head like a machine gun. I caught the wand awkwardly, fumbling it briefly before finally holding it properly. I glanced behind me – the ghoul had realised what had happened and was now charging towards me once again. He slowed down, warily watching the battle behind me.

“Josh, we’re trapped,” I said to him.

“Fuck that!” he exclaimed, “I’ve got an idea. Swap!”

We swivelled around each other, so that I was now countering the aggressive spells of Crow while Josh dealt with the ghoul. I didn’t have time to look around, deflecting and shielding busily, but I heard Josh mutter something and then the ghoul howled angrily. I saw Crow’s eyes widen as he looked up in shock, and then the ghoul fell from the air on top of him, knocking him to the floor heavily. I laughed as Josh’s arm appeared over my shoulder and shot two petrification spells at the collapsed figures. They were frozen, and Josh rested his arm on my shoulder, the tension ebbing out of it.

“Holy shit!” I said.

“What do you reckon?” he muttered in my ear.

“I reckon you’re a bit of a genius,” I said, turning around and looking up into his eye, still narrowed and staring past me at the ghoul and his master.

“Well, thank you,” he said, smiling down at me, “But I meant what now. Why haven’t the guards come back? There have been plenty of curses splashing around. And someone must have noticed the light show, surely?”

“Crow probably told them there’d be some more curses. He thought he could kill all three of us and let the ghoul take the fall. Probably literally. I doubt we’ll see any guards coming up here for quite some time. How is he?” I said, as Josh knelt by Jones, feeling his pulse.

“He’s fine. Just unconscious. We should get him some medical attention, though,” Josh said.

“We need to take care of a few other things first,” I said, striding over to Crow and kneeling to stare into his eyes. “Who put the bounty on my head?” I asked him.

I didn’t need to unfreeze him in order to find out the answer. Unlike the ghoul, Crow was susceptible to legilimency, the subtle art of magical mind-reading. I stared deep into his eyes, and there was certainly some resistance. He had apparently been taught the counter-magic of occlumency, which made sense if he was working for the CIA. But he was petrified, and exhausted, and recently defeated. His emotions were wild enough that I could still discover a great deal of information. The true purpose of Guantanamo Bay, for example, and a few little secrets about Area 51. Those would be useful to know. There were several memories of his family – growing up in New Jersey, always worrying about money, being teased at the Salem Institute for never having the latest fashions or new equipment. He wasn’t paid well in his job, and he was frustrated with the lack of promotional prospects. When he’d seen my name on the guest list for this party, as part of his security briefing material days ago, he’d smelt a chance to get rich quickly. Whoever it was that was offering the bounty was heavily shielded in his mind, and it was impossible to undermine his occlumency skill surrounding this memory. But he had an associate at the party. An alibi, and a witness. Someone I didn’t recognise, but the memories showed me that his associate also knew who was offering the bounty.

Crow’s partner was another American. He was a short, round man with watery eyes and bushy eyebrows. Even now Crow’s memory was resisting me, but from the look of his friend’s face it didn’t seem like he knew any occlumency. But he was careful – he had spent all evening sticking close to Crow, lingering in crowds, nearly silent the whole time.

“That took longer than usual. Are you alright?” Josh asked me as I broke contact with Crow, severing our mental connection.

“I’m fine. He doesn’t know who put the bounty on me, but he knows someone downstairs that might.”

“What do you want to do?” Josh asked.

“Bring Hoppy up here. I’ve got a plan,” I said, standing up over Crow and the ghoul and using Jones’s wand to summon up yet more ropes to tie them up. I took great care to make sure they had no concealed knives or anything that might be used to split the rope.

Hoppy appeared a few seconds after Josh summoning her, carrying a wine glass in one hand.

“Oh good grief,” she said, looking around at the piles of severed ropes, the burn marks from spells and curses, the daggers, the various bodies lying on the flagstones whether they were unconscious or petrified.

“Everything is okay, Hoppy,” I said, “But now I need your help. Is there a Potions classroom in this school? Does it have a supply cupboard? Can you apparate us there?”

“What? Yes, of course. It’s probably off-limits, though.”

“I’m not sure that matters now,” Josh said, “But we should avoid the patrols of the French guards. They’ll still be searching for any more ghouls sneaking around the castle. I mean, unless Crow told them otherwise.”

“Crow? The American? Why would they do that?” Hoppy said, rushing over the unconscious bodies.

“He pointed a ghoul at me and pulled the trigger,” I said, “Josh, I have something else for you to do. You should get downstairs and tell the first guard you see that the ghoul got loose and knocked out Jones. Then Crow chased him into the palace grounds, I suppose. Out in the trees. That might mean there’ll be less guards around. Oh, and if any of the dinner guests ask where I am, you haven’t seen me, okay?”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” said Josh, “I feel a bit useless though.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re already my hero,” I said kindly, standing on my toes, in my heeled shoes, to kiss him on the cheek, “You defeated a duellist by hitting him with a ghoul. You just don’t want to go back inside and sit at that table with Andrew.” I smiled as Josh blushed in the darkness.

“The dinner is over now, actually,” said Hoppy, “The bar is open, and the wood nymphs have been joined by an entire orchestra of imps, elves and gnomes.”

“There’s a bar?” Josh said, brightening.

“A free bar. So don’t go getting carried away. You’ve had an extraordinary day,” she warned him with a slight smile. He lingered, looking from the ghoul and Crow to me with concern.

“Go on,” I grinned, pleased to see Hoppy and Josh recovered from their brief argument, “I’ll be fine with these two. There’s no way I’m going to de-petrify them.”

“If anything happens, anything at all, come and get me, okay?” he said to Hoppy.

“Go on, get out of here,” I said, “Get help for Jones, tell them Crow chased the ghoul into the woods, and nobody has seen me, okay? I’ll come and find you very shortly.”

Josh rushed off to perform his tasks quickly, then hit the bar. Meanwhile, Hoppy and I hurried to apparate away with the two petrified, tied up bodies before the guards arrived back on the walkway to help Jones. I considered leaving him his wand, but I would need it for my plan. I took the two daggers, as well. I felt quite bad just leaving him up here to the mercies of the night sky, but there was nothing I could do about that.

Hoppy apparated my two captives and I to the potions classroom. We appeared on a wooden floor, but everything else was pitch black.

“Hold on, Madame Baker,” Hoppy said while she magically lit some of the lamps in the high ceiling, revealing the room. The walls were panelled with pale wood with framed pictures of French potions-specialists, all of them looking up in alarm at the tied, petrified prisoners. There were long desks of the same wood, surrounded by golden stools with plush pale blue velvet seats. The cabinets, tables and workbenches at the sides of the room were piled high with expensive, elegant looking glassware with golden ornamentation. There were a few textbooks on the shelves mounted on the wall, and they were some sort of pale blue leather with gold, flowery lettering. Of course the titles were in French, but even if they were in English I’m not sure I would have understood the font. There were pristine chalkboards, devoid of any smeared chalk or lingering dust. There were two discreet doors, almost disguised to look like the wall panelling.

“Which one is the supply cupboard?” I asked Hoppy, who was checking the handles of both doors.

“Both are locked. I think this one is the store cupboard,” she said. I magically unlocked it with one of my more powerful unlocking charms and quietly opened the door, hearing the creak of it echo around the empty classroom.

While there is always something strange about being alone in a classroom so long after school has finished, it’s even weirder as an adult. And of course, there was an extra set of butterflies in my stomach, an extra reason to be nervous, given what I was about to do. I’ve heard many things in my long, prodigious career as a rumour-monger and information-trader, and while lots of my information and knowledge is dangerous but useful, there are a few bits that are just silly. Rumours about wizards and witches with strange relationships, unusual tastes and remarkable fetishes were always worth remembering, for nothing else but amusement – or maybe curiosity. One such rumour concerned the old potions teacher here at Beauxbatons, and his peculiar ways involving polyjuice potions. It’s not an uncommon fetish, the desire to occupy the body of someone else, usually someone of the opposite gender. But this potions teacher enjoyed occupying the bodies of children. In itself this wasn’t particularly sick, I suppose, but it was just distasteful and disturbing enough for him to lose his job a few months ago. The school had tried to cover it up, but obviously rumours had circulated. I was sure it was this potions teacher what Andrew Grey had been referring to at dinner, when he’d hinted that things were less than perfect in this school.

Sure enough, deep inside the cluttered potions store-room, my keen and suspicious eye detected the hints of a secret compartment, hidden behind a large ceramic jar and an ornate wooden box marked with French lettering. I moved several glass bottles and cardboard boxes of various potions ingredients, the ceramic jar and ornate wooden box, then magically opened the secret compartment. Inside there were several bottles that I withdrew, sealing the hatch back up and replacing all the things that obscured it. I put all but one of the bottles in my purse, the magic interior more than enough to accommodate them.

“Hoppy, help me strip him naked,” I said to her, uncorking the bottle of polyjuice potion and dipping my wand in, to check how fresh it was. The grey ooze responded to my wand and began bubbling slightly, indicating it was still potent.

We stripped Crow naked, keeping him petrified but loosening his ropes to get his clothes off. When he was completely naked, I tied him back up again, and grinned as I patted his cheek patronisingly. Then I used one of the daggers to slice off a decent clump of his hair and drop it into the potion bottle. It turned a bright red, and the bubbling grew more intense.

“What do you plan to do, Madame Baker?” Hoppy asked.

“I’m going to disguise myself as him and find out who’s behind this whole mess,” I said, looking down at Crow’s naked body and wondering what it would feel like to be him.

I undressed in the store cupboard, looking down at my own naked body. I put all my clothes, even my underwear, shoes and delicate hat into my magical purse, worrying about the creases in the satin but remembering that I’d be able to magically iron them out when I put the dress back on, considering I also had to repair several minor rips and tears. Then I examined the red, viscous ooze in the bottle. I’d only tried polyjuice potion once, when I was at a party after I graduated from Hogwarts. It was strange stuff, and we had all been transformed into another woman. Someone was passing around polyjuice potion just for a laugh, like a disturbing, magical masquerade party. It had been fairly hilarious, but also vaguely disturbing to see her legs and arms and where mine should have been. She’d had corns on her feet and a dry, itchy scalp but bigger breasts than mine, and I remember feeling her thick, coarse leg hair. I had no idea what it would feel like to transform into a man. But it’s been done before, by hundreds of thousands of fetishists, over the long centuries of recorded history, so I assumed it couldn’t be that bad. I drank the potion.

The sensation was like farting, but with my skin. There was no pain, but it was quite disturbing to look down at my naked body and see my breasts disappearing. I could feel my hair growing short, and I was growing by about a foot. My arms became more muscular, and my knees much more knobbly. Sure enough, the strangest part of the whole experience was feeling a pair of testicles and a penis sprouting between my legs. I assumed it was the tension, or unusual nature of the experience, or maybe it was just a fraction of a degree too cold in the store cupboard, but I couldn’t help noticing that my brand new penis was smaller than the original Crow’s. He was circumcised, with quite light pubic hair. I reached further down and felt it, stroking its wrinkles and exposed purple head. I cupped the testicles, and winced as I grasped them too firmly. Weighing them in my hands, I worried that one was more descended than the other, but then again these wouldn’t be mine for very long. I returned to stroking my penis, frowning in confusion and fascination as I explored it. There was a very real danger I could get carried away as I tweaked and pulled at it, seeing how far it would stretch, gently bending it around, manipulating the hole gingerly, and generally playing with it. Eventually I remembered I was on a time limit, and had a job to do, so I pulled on Crow’s clothes. I was unfamiliar with the weight of the flesh between my legs though, and as I was zipping up the trousers, a tiny amount of skin got caught. I’d only had a penis for five minutes, and I’d already caught it in the zip of my trousers. I winced in pain and desperately freed it, even using my wand to ease it out. Tears sprang to my eyes. I rubbed it better, feeling far from an erotic sensation as I tried to breathe away the pain. Eventually I was fully dressed, and exited the store cupboard.

“Madame Lucinda?” asked Hoppy, looking me up and down.

“Yes,” I said, and my voice sounded rich and masculine, complete with the thick American accent.

“What now?” she asked.

I checked the binding on the ropes holding Crow and the ghoul, adjusted myself within my trousers quickly and felt the deep satisfaction of my testicles sliding into place. Then I locked the potions store cupboard, extinguished the lights and unlocked the classroom door into the cupboard. Hoppy and I peered out, looking up and down the corridor. It was less palatial and glamorous than the chambers we’d been moving through, but it was still tasteful in pastel blue and gold trim, the flickering lamp-lights on the walls making the gold glitter. We hurried away from the potions room after I locked the door. I was doing my best to hurry, anyway – it felt so strange to walk with the weight of my testicles swinging around. Remembering what it felt like to squeeze them too tightly, and the pain of getting caught in my zip, I was walking very carefully with my legs quite far apart.

“We can’t just leave them there, surely?” Hoppy commented.

“I’ll think of something to do with them later,” I said, still finding the sound of Crow’s voice very strange, “We have three or four hours until the petrification spell wears off, and even then they’ll have a very hard time getting themselves untied.”

We passed several groups of French guards and attendants, all of whom greeted me in a respectful way, even though I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Several of them asked me questions, and I could do nothing but make non-committal noises, or say in English that I was too busy to worry about that now – whatever it was they talked about – and then hurry off with Hoppy, letting her guide the way back to the party. I enjoyed being able to walk much faster without much more effort, due to my longer legs. His posture was also much straighter than mine.

Eventually we came through a set of double doors into the main chamber, where the tables had been vanished to make room for the dance floor. A set of tables had been set up into a magical bar, behind which the attendants were patiently giving out many different kinds of alcohol and soft drinks. Just as Hoppy had said, there was a full choir and orchestra, and very rigid, sophisticated ballroom dancing was being attempted by the guests. People were filtering in and out of the room as they visited the gardens once more, or toured the more public areas of the school with the help of more attendants. I let Hoppy return to her master to make sure he wasn’t making an emotional fool of himself while I started looking for Crow’s associate – his memories hadn’t told me his name, but I was sure I’d recognise his face.

After ten minutes, having checked every shadow and recess of the main room with the dance floor and the bar, every room and side-chamber on the path to the garden, I finally found the man in the garden. He was leaning against a window-frame and puffing on a stubby wooden pipe. He looked up as I approached.

“I’ve been hearing a lot of things from the security teams. Conflicting reports. How did it go?” he demanded.

“Its fine,” I said, trying to limit how much I said.

“Did you… do it?”

“Not here,” I said, and we walked into one of the darker parts of the garden, past more astonishing plants and shrubs that were attractively presented.

“What happened?” he asked, relighting his pipe with his wand as we stood beneath a tall oak.

“I killed her. It’s all taken care of.”

“And you got proof, right?” he asked eagerly. I pulled my purse out of my pocket awkwardly, because I’d had to squash it in tightly. I showed it to him, but pulled it out of his grip as he tried to grab it. He looked at me through narrowed eyes, puffing up a huge cloud of smoke.

“I suppose you want the money first,” he said.

At that moment, we were interrupted by someone singing noisily as they approached down the path. Although the voice was shrill with volume and heavily slurred from drinking too much, I still recognised it.

“A wizard’s staff has a knob on the end,” sang the drunk as he approached us down the path, swinging his arms around, “It will never buckle, it will never bend, he cherishes it and calls it his friend, and he frequently takes it in hand!”

“Who’s this idiot?” asked Crow’s friend, and I turned to watch Percy Weasely stumble around, looking blearily at the flagstones while he remembered the next verse.

“The staff of a wizard with honour is crowned, a wizard without one will never be found, it’s big and it’s round and weighs three to the pound, and without it the wizard’s unmanned!”

“Let’s get out of here,” I growled, staring daggers at the foolish ginger drunk.

“What’s that he’s singing?” asked Crow’s friend.

“A wizard when young has a staff that is small, it’s puny and weak, ineffective withal, it grows with his power until it stands tall, as his fame and his glory expand!” sang Percy joyously, then he notice us standing in the deep shadow of the oak tree. “Oh hello!” he said, “It’s it a wonderful party!”

“What was that song?” asked Crow’s friend.

“It’s called ‘A wizard’s staff has a knob on the end’. My brothers taught me it. Fred and George. Fred died in the uprising, you know.”

“Come on, let’s go,” I said, pulling on the associate’s arm.

“Fred was a good guy. I should never have been such a proud, uptight little snot,” Percy slurred, burping noisily.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Crow’s friend said coldly, “I hope you feel better. See you later, okay?”

“There’s a final verse to that song, you know?” Percy continued while I sighed, wondering how much longer my small dose of the potion would last, “When a wizard is old, and is starting to fade, he looks on his staff that with cunning he made. The crown of his life and the tool of his trade, and together they make their last stand!” he sang tearfully, “That was my brother. It’s almost literally about him. I mean, apart from how he was old. But he was cunning! He was so sneaky and tricky! And his last stand was so brave! We’re all so proud of him!”

“Listen, asshole,” said Crow’s friend, drawing his wand, “You’re starting to piss me off. Get out of here, or I’ll turn you into a damn frog, alright?” he said as he seized Percy’s collar.

Percy blinked at him blearily, then suddenly vomited, spewing out a stream of pressurised stomach bile and half-digested lobster. It splattered noisily against the man’s face before slowing to a gentle flow that dribbled down Percy’s chin.

“Oh shit,” said Percy in a bubbling, gargling voice, “Sorry.”

Crow’s associate was mute with disgust and shock, but it was slowly turning into rage. He let go of Percy’s collar to wipe the vomit from his face, shuddering as he wiped it from his eyes – his glasses had done nothing to protect him. It dripped from his chin as he spat out the few drops that had made it into his mouth.

“I’m going to fuck you up,” Crow’s partner said, wiping the vomit from the lapels of his suit.

“Just let him go,” I said, intervening.

“Fuck that!”

“I’m going to go again,” Percy said, and we both stepped back hurriedly from him. He bent over quickly into a flower bed, nearly losing his footing as another stream of vomit spewed noisily from his mouth.

“Hey, look at me,” I said to Crow’s friend, having an idea.

I performed some quick legilimency again, and with a more specific target in mind within his brain it was easier to dig out the important knowledge. Within a fraction of a second, I knew who it was that had put the price on my head. The polyjuice potion had at least allowed me to get close to him, and lure him to this private part of the garden, but in the end it was my old, well-practised talent at mind-reading and memory retrieval that I fell back on.

It was a wizard called Robert Simursh, or ‘Bobby Smash’ to his associates. He was a massive importer of dark goods and forbidden artefacts. I had no objection to his activities in principle, of course, but the Ministry had offered me a lot of money to convince one of his thugs to provide evidence. The stooge had turned into a witness and an informant. I had been paid handsomely and had given it almost no further thought. But they had convened the Wizengamot itself to prosecute Bobby Smash, and the case was in its second week while lawyers and legal-wizards heard evidence from aurors, forensic potion-mixers and multiple interrogation techniques. The Ministry was exploiting this small victory over a relatively small-scale smuggling ring like it was prosecuting the Death Eaters all over again. It seemed that the bounty on my head was not a practical, sensible plan to wipe out my wide knowledge of secrets and shame from someone I had once blackmailed or extorted. Rather, it was some desperate act of revenge against me from someone I barely knew, much less had regular dealings with. In a way, that was slightly disappointing.

“My god, you’re not you,” said Crow’s associate, looking up at me with wide, fearful eyes, “You’re not him! You’re not Crow! Crow doesn’t know legilimency!”

“I’m not Oswald Crow,” I told him.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“I’m a pissed off holiday-maker,” I said, and whipped out Jones’s wand to summon ropes, a fraction of a second before the other man went for his own wand. As the ropes snapped around his arm, his wand slipped from his feeble grip and span over itself into the air before it landed on the floor. As Crow’s associate tumbled to the floor, I picked up the wand and hurled it into the bushes. Percy murmured something from the floor, trying to push himself out of the pile of vomit.

“Please, you can’t be allowed to know! He’ll kill us if he thinks we told you!” the tied up man whined.

“That’s so sad, I might cry,” I said sarcastically, enjoying how Crow sounded with this tone of voice. With Jones’s wand I cast Obliviate, deleting our conversation, including the encounter with Percy. While the man remained tied up and delirious from his memory-wipe, I helped Percy up, trying to avoid getting any of his puke on me as I helped him back into the castle.

I wandered through the crowds and the gorgeous, sumptuous palace with one of Percy’s arms over my shoulder, and one of mine under his shoulder, trying not to let him vomit onto the luxurious pale blue carpets of the palace. The guests were all staring at us, but I was happily smiling at people with Crow’s face. Eventually we made it to the men’s bathroom, and I helped Percy get a grip on the sink and look at himself in the mirror.

“Oh my,” he said, wiping vomit from his chin and then looking down at his suit with bleary eyes. “Oh my,” he said again, “This was a rental!”

“It’s very nice,” I said, as I felt ripple in my skin.

“Oh fuck, I’m so drunk your face is changing,” slurred Percy before he gave in to the urges of his body and dry-heaved into the sink he was resting on. He looked up at himself once more, his eyes red, and his mouth hanging open, “Is mine changing? I think I feel my face changing!” he wailed.

I was ducking into one of the stalls at the back of the room, feeling that strange gassy, wobbling feeling in my skin once more. The polyjuice potion was wearing off. I could feel my penis shrivelling, my testicles leaping up into my body. My legs, arms and torso were all cracking and clicking back into my own natural shape. As before, there was no pain, but the sensation was still incredibly peculiar. Before I knew it, my body had been restored. Crow’s clothes hang on me loosely, his shoes were far too big and as I felt my breasts beneath his shirt, his trousers fell to my ankles. I touched myself briefly, gently, making sure everything had returned properly. Then I checked my face, but I couldn’t be certain it was normal until I looked in the mirror. My nose still felt the same – I am particularly fond of my nose, and have many special memories attached to it because of a guy I used to love before he was killed. I took off all of Crow’s clothes, leaving them discarded in the booth. I pulled my own clothes out carefully, putting on my fancy underwear and stockings, slipping my satin dress over my body while I repaired and de-wrinkled it silently. I put on my hat, but I couldn’t do my hair or fix my makeup without a mirror. I made sure everything was in place, putting my own dagger back in my thigh-holster and leaving the other in my purse. Then I walked out of the booth.


	6. Chapter 6

I attracted many looks as a woman in the men’s toilets – astonished, surprised and entertained. I walked right up to the mirror and took my lipstick out of my purse, applying it carefully without making eye contact, but smiling with twinkling eyes. I looked down at Percy in the sink next to me as I finished my eye makeup.

“Percy, are you okay?” I asked, my voice thankfully returned to normal too.

“I feel so sick,” he muttered, not lifting his head from the porcelain.

“Well, just stay here and clean yourself up, okay? You’ll be fine,” I said as I tried to fix my hair. I sighed as I realised it would never be the same as the professional up-do I had been wearing, but it still looked sophisticated and sleek because of the conditioner they had used. Then I turned and walked out, slinking my hips on purpose as the eyes of the men all followed me out. I was out of the door before I started blushing, and had to stop myself from giggling as I rushed off.

I eventually found Josh and Hoppy at the bar. There were fewer guests around now, and I assumed they had left for the night or retired to their rooms. Josh and Hoppy were some of the last, sitting at the bar and bantering away as usual.

“Did you find Andrew?” I asked.

“Lucinda!” they both exclaimed. Hoppy looked me up and down appraisingly.

“Yes, it’s definitely me,” I said.

“When did we first meet?” Hoppy asked me while Josh looked at her, wondering why she was asking.

“I was coming out of Josh’s bedroom, wearing his dressing gown. You offered me French toast and coffee, but I only wanted water. I was fairly hung over,” I said with a grin, and Josh laughed.

“I got you this drink,” said Josh, passing me a glass of white wine.

“Yeah, it’s definitely you,” said Hoppy, “He’s had a drink waiting for you since he got here. Well, first he finishes his, then he starts on yours while he orders you another one. It’s an interesting system. Should you be drinking after the potion?”

“It’s a brilliant system,” Josh said, “What potion?”

“That’s not important right now,” I said. I was worrying about what to do with Crow and the ghoul, still petrified and tied up in the potions classroom. If I made them both disappear completely, there would be questions. I could modify Crow’s memory, but not the ghoul. Maybe I could just bribe and bamboozle the ghoul into forgetfulness, but that felt untidy.

“Apparently desert was only acceptable,” said Josh, sensing my current unwillingness to talk about it.

“What was it?” I asked.

“Crepe suzette with brown sugar and lemon,” Hoppy sniffed, “But the alcohol content was far too high. It wasn’t burnt off properly, and it singed the fringes of the crepes.”

“That sounds delicious,” I said sadly.

“I can arrange for it to be served to you tomorrow for breakfast,” Hoppy said with a smug expression.

“Really? That would be amazing,” I said.

“With champagne?” said Hoppy.

“Hoppy, I think I love you,” I said, hiccupping. I looked down at the wine suspiciously, and realised that I was feeling much more drunk than I should be.

“I told you about that potion,” Hoppy grinned.

“It’s not been a great holiday for you, has it?” Josh asked sympathetically.

“It’s been far too stressful so far to call it a holiday,” I said, finishing the glass.

“Would you like to dance?” Josh asked, standing up.

I looked over at the dance floor in the darkened room. There were very few dancing couples left, and the orchestra and chorus were slowing down. But I looked up at Josh’s eager face, feeling the buzz of the wine combined with the potion, and the exhilaration of the night despite the terror and bruises and pain, and I remembered how he had knocked out Crow with a ghoul.

“Yeah, okay,” I said, taking his hand while Hoppy smiled at us both.

He wasn’t a fantastic dancer, but the swirl of chemicals in my brain and his smiling eye looking down at me made up for it. One hand was holding mine, and his arm was around my waist while mine was on his other shoulder. As we swayed to the slow orchestral music and the soft singing of the choir, I leant my head against his shoulder and sighed deeply, enjoying his vanilla aroma. Closing my eyes, I let myself forget about the danger I had been in and let him hold me. It seemed as though hours had passed in this way. 

“I don’t think that you should be alone tonight” he said softly.

“May I stay with you tonight?” I looked up into his eyes, his hand holding mine on his chest. He grinned back, but said nothing, so I leant my head against his shoulder once more until the song finished.

We went back to the bar to drink another glass of wine before we retired to our room. It was a nuisance to find it, since Hoppy was no longer our guide. She had disappeared presumably to find her old friends. Instead, Josh and I wandered off into the palatial corridors, asking any attendants, students or busy elves for directions as we went.

We wandered off through the palatial corridors, pointing out portraits to each other as we laughed and giggled. Some of them greeted us with stuffy formalities, looking down at us as we stumbled around, but others had entered into the spirit of the late-night party echoing through the palace and they were indulging libertine debaucheries – kissing and flirting with each other.

We pushed open the big double-doors and collapsed into Josh’s room, pausing as we drank in the luxury. There was a four-poster king-size bed with twisted gold columns, with pale blue drapes, sheets and pillow covers. There was a tiny chocolate wrapped in gold on each pillow. There was an en-suite bathroom through one door, and a walk-in wardrobe through another where all Josh’s clothes had been hung. They looked sparse in the massive space. The window was huge, with plush blue curtains. The view looked out over the tame woodland of the palace grounds, the guarded walls of the palace and the rolling hills beyond that with wilder, more gnarled trees waving in the darkness. I looked down at the landscape full of flickering, moving fairy-lights that were still circulating through the trees in the warm night air. Josh dimmed the chandelier dangling from the ceiling with his wand. The two of us held each other close and looked out at the warm, shimmering landscape and we slowly grew closer until we finally kissed.

We could hear the music from the ballroom. Josh pulled me into his arms as we moved to the soft sound of distant music. We waltz into the room and he twirled me around on my toes until I was giggling. He caught me as I stumbled. 

“I hardly ever get to hear you laugh” he smiled down at me. I couldn’t resist him anymore; I didn’t want to resist him anymore. We tumbled onto the bed, pulling each other’s clothes off. The night dissolved into a tangle of sensation. Flesh was pulled, pushed, stroked, scratched, licked, teased, massaged, bitten and stretched. We gasped, groaned, sighed and growled as the night wore on, with intermissions of laughing and a few moments of sleep. Before we knew it, someone was knocking on the double doors of the room, and the sun was peeking through the heavy curtains.

“What?” Josh called out as he pulled the soft sheets over himself, and I pulled them up to my nose to cover my naked body.

“It is me, master. I have your breakfast,” said Hoppy.

“What? Already?” I muttered.

“May I come in?” she asked.

“Yeah, okay,” Josh called out.

She walked in rolling a large golden trolley with golden platters, curved golden covers over them. She had several large golden bowls and a couple of bottles of rich, brown-golden fluids. On the bottom of the trolley there were two ice buckets holding a large bottle of champagne each. Hoppy also had two glasses. She took one of the champagne bottles and undid the foil, releasing the cork without letting the champagne fizz over. She tilted the glasses as she poured it, and handed one to both of us.

“What’s this about?” I asked.

“Do you not remember? I said I would bring you champagne and crepe suzette,” she said as she lifted one of the golden dome-lid, revealing a hot plate that was already simmering with heat. She poured some of the pancake mix from one of the jugs onto the hotplate and it started sizzling. “I have also taken care of that little problem in the potions room, Madame Baker.”

“What?!” I said, almost sitting up. 

“What did you end up doing last night? You look very fresh,” Josh said as he ignored me.

“I did stay up quite late. I found a few of my friends that were still working down in the kitchens. We discussed a few of the issues I’d had with the food. The debate became quite heated, but it was resolved in the end,” she said happily as she flipped the pancake. The smell was making me drool, even though my nostrils were full of the soft fabric of the bed sheets. I could smell vanilla and cinnamon cooking on the hotplate.

“Resolved, eh?” Josh said with a smile.

“I won’t lie, the cleaver was waved around a little bit,” she said, lifting a second dome lid and revealing a saucepan on a low heat. She served the already cooked crepe onto the saucepan, then covered it back up while she poured another pancake onto the hot plate.

“Hoppy, what did you do?” I asked.

“Oui, I went a bit wild. But as I said, everything was resolved,” she said as she flipped the second crepe.

“I trust it was eventually resolved without violence,” said Josh, finding a pyjama shirt at the bottom of the bed and putting it on beneath the covers.

“Again, master, I won’t lie. There was an amount of violence. But only a few bruises,” she said.

“Are we talking about the debate about the food, or the people I had tied up and petrified in the potions classroom?” I said.

Hoppy flipped another pancake easily from the hotplate, lifting the dome lid to allow it to land in the saucepan where the others were all sizzling. She poured another pancake out. Josh blinked at me blearily, looking from Hoppy to me and back again as Hoppy flipped the pancake. He itched his head and rubbed at his beard, and then scratched beneath his eye patch as if he was rubbing sleep from it. I wasn’t sure whether he got sleep-crumbs in his empty eye socket or not.

“What’s this about people tied up in potions classrooms?”

“That’s where we left the ghoul and the American,” I said, trying to conceal the fact that I was almost drooling, “Hoppy, what did you actually do with them?”

“Well, me and my friends were feeling a bit… playful,” she said with a grin as she scraped another pancake onto the saucepan and started cooking one more.

“How many of those are you making?” asked Josh sleepily, finishing his glass of champagne. Hoppy offered to refill it while Josh accept happily.

“I thought maybe six. Three for each of you, and then I would leave you to enjoy the first morning of your holiday,” she said happily.

“Hoppy, what did you do with them?” I asked.

“It’s nothing. Incidentally, Beauxbatons has its own dungeons, you know. They haven’t been used in a hundred years at least, because they are darker and cruder than the rest of the palace. They deviate from the light, ornate architectural style. In fact the doorways to the dungeons are all bricked up and walled over.”

“Oh my god,” said Josh, nearly spraying his champagne across the bed sheet.

“It’s not a problem. We can keep them there until you decide what to do with them, Madame Baker.”

“Until I decide?” I asked, finishing my own champagne.

“Oui. They are your enemies. Until you come up with a plan for disposing of them, my friends and I shall keep them fed, watered and imprisoned. I do believe these crepes are finished. Pay attention, Madame Baker. This is how an artist does it,” she said with a wide grin, flipping the last pancake onto the saucepan beneath the golden dome lid. Picking up a jug, she splashed a generous amount of orange juice into a glass, then poured in a decent measure of brandy. “Would you care for some fresh orange juice?” she asked us as she drenched the pancakes in the orange-brandy solution.

“No, thank you,” I said.

“Yes please!” said Josh enthusiastically, and Hoppy happily provided him with a glass of orange juice, which he put on the table next to the bed and continued sipping his champagne.

Meanwhile, Hoppy was letting the mixture simmer and swirl over the collection of pancakes, and then she magically introduced a flame to it. She watched the flames flicker happily as they burnt away the alcohol, and I could smell the vanilla, cinnamon, orange and brandy all fusing together into one delicious aromatic blend. As she swirled the saucepan, the reflections of the flames danced in her eyes, wide with concentration. She flipped the pancakes with a swift hand, slicing the spatula beneath each crepe and flicking her wrist deftly, landing it back in place within the aromatic flames until finally the alcohol had all burnt away. She served the pancakes onto two pale blue plates with golden trim, then left the room with a flourish. Josh felt moved to applaud her display. She grinned as she closed the door behind her.

“Just tell me what you think, master.”

We tried the crepes suzette. I am not a massive fan of orange at any time, let alone during breakfast. But these were delicious – and washing them down with champagne didn’t hurt either. Josh was enthusiastic about them to an immense degree, and I had to calm him down several times as he tried to eat and praise his food at the same time. We fooled around for the rest of the morning, drinking champagne and nibbling at leftover pancakes. As Hoppy had said, it was a good start to my holiday.

 

*

 

If you take a wrong turning from Diagon Alley, you find yourself in Nocturn Alley. While Diagon Alley is family-friendly, full of wand merchants and pet shops and broomstick sellers, as well as the massive emporium that is now Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, the opposite is true of Nocturn Alley. It’s lined with grim junk shops, old businesses that look like antique shops and shadowy doorways that sell illicit potions if you know the password. There is also a pub, called The Muggle’s Tooth. It’s much dirtier and shadowy than the Leaky Cauldron, with a much dirtier and shadowy clientele. It was this pub into which I strode, wearing a deep hood and cloak. It wasn’t unusual in this establishment.

I was entirely aware of how much danger I was in, since the bounty was still being offered. But I walked up to the table where Bobby Smash had used to sit, gorging himself on roast lamb, pickled eels and cheap ale. He had run his smuggling operation from this table like a true criminal overlord. But his seat was now occupied by a skinny little man with long, wispy sideburns and terrible teeth of yellow and blue. I approached his table, but was stopped by a big, meaty thug.

“Who’re you?” he demanded, pulling down my hood. His look of surprise was worth the risk I had taken in coming here. Behind me, the entire pub ceased their conspiratorial whisperings and turned to stare at me. I could feel a dozen eyes looking me up and down. I refused to let my nervousness, anxiety and yes, even fear, show on my face.

“Let her through,” said the skinny wizard at the table, equally astonished. As I was released by the stooge and I made my way to the table, the air started to smell even worse, and I eventually realised it was the skinny wizard’s terrible breath.

“I know it was Bobby Smash that put a bounty on my head,” I said as I sat down.

“So what?”

“Oswald Crow and his pet ghoul were the best chance you had of killing me,” I said, “And I took care of them like they were nothing. I danced the night away afterwards.”

“Oswald blabbed, eh?” said the smelly, skinny wizard.

“And his stubby little friend with the glasses, too,” I said with a smile.

“What do you want?” he demanded, “Did you come here to gloat? That’s stupid. I could kill you here and now, and nobody here would even care.”

“You’re right, that would be stupid. You’re right that nobody here would care, too. And you’d surely be made a rich man,” I said, “You’d be able to afford all the dental healing and mouthwash that you want. But there are people outside this room that  _ would _ care. You have no idea how much they’d care. I have information on Bobby, you, and your entire organisation that would make the Wizengamot’s sentence last week look like a cakewalk. I could bury your whole dirty little operation if I wanted. But that wouldn’t be in my interests, would it,” I said.

“Why not?” said the skinny man, stupidly. I had to stop myself from wrinkling my nose as his breathy stench.

“Let’s be honest, Bobby’s bounty on me is stupid and expensive. If I die, my friends will give the Ministry a whole bundle of sealed envelopes containing all the information I know about your shitty little deals. And that’s a lot of envelopes, let me tell you. Cancel the bounty, and I’ll have no reason to tell the Ministry anything about you, right?”

“You’ll destroy the envelopes?”

“I’m not an idiot,” I said with a grin, “The arrangements stay in place. If I die, you’ll enter a world so full of shit that you won’t be able to tell up from down. But cancel the bounty, and there’ll be a better chance that I’ll live, eh? Call it insurance.”

“Bobby isn’t in charge no more,” said the skinny wizard.

“So why pay his bounty? Let’s just go our separate ways and say no more of this hostility. Why, it’s even in your interests to protect me,” I said, idly fiddling with the table, “You don’t want me to die, right? And after all, you’re top dog now. That’s something you owe me.”

The skinny wizard leant back, puffing on his pipe and watching me with curious eyes. He looked up at the various thugs surrounding his table in the shadows, apparently seeing them anew for the first time. He motioned to one of them and whispered in his ear, and I could tell from the thug’s face that he hated being that close to the skinny wizard’s mouth. The thug straightened up, his face turning a subtle shade of green, and he went to the bar.

“You’re talking sense,” he said, “Why don’t you join me in a drink and we can talk about it more?”

“There’s nothing else to talk about,” I said, just as the thug returned with a wooden flagon of ale, placing it gently before me like I might explode.

“We can still talk,” said the skinny man, “And maybe more?”

“Your old boss tried to have me killed. I’m sure you can understand why I don’t want to stick around,” I said, standing up, “It’s nothing personal. Cancel the bounty, make sure everyone knows it, and then maybe we’ll get on better, eh?”

“Consider it done,” said the skinny man, and I could feel his eyes on my legs and bottom as I walked away, brushing aside the bodyguard that blocked my way and striding out of the pub.

Sure enough, the next morning I heard that the bounty was cancelled, and indeed Bobby Smash’s old gang had threatened to punish anyone who thought about putting me in danger. I left the tied up bodies of Oswald Crow and his ghoul assistant outside The Muggle’s Tooth a few days later, as a gift to say thank you.


End file.
